Initiation Night
by thewizardanthedragon
Summary: Luc finds himself in uncharted territory when he participates in initiation night for the school swim team. WARNING - CP of MINOR
1. Luc's Point of View

By the time Friday night arrived I was going to strangle my little brother. He had been driving me nuts ever since he'd heard me ask Dad to borrow that blasted paddle. He even tried to take it from my back pack on Thursday morning when I was in the shower. He's lucky I didn't throw him out my window like I threatened or tell mom what he was doing. The problem was I was already feeling more than a little guilty. I told my father that I needed it for a school project, but that was only really a half truth.

You see the problem was that I kinda, sorta, but not really lied about why I needed the paddle in the first place. I had said that I needed it for a school project, a comedic skit. And although it was school related it had nothing to do with a project or comedy for that matter. I had been chosen to be part of the senior swim team and the captain of the team was hosting an initiation celebration of sorts at his house on Friday night.

Someone in their ultimate high school stupidity had decided that any and all new members of the team needed to participate in some sort of ritual. Luckily when this discussion took place I was actually present and was able to convince them all that stealing something to hand over as payment gave the team a bad name. I persuaded the group that the best display of prowess would be to "borrow" something that needed to later be returned. The group added the caveat that the object had to be something that would be difficult to take or of some value.

It was easy to come up with what I was going to bring. Initially I was going to just take the paddle as I knew where it 'lived'. But then on Monday mom threatened Sam that if she got another phone call from his teacher she would reintroduce him to it. At the time I didn't want its disappearance to be blamed on Sam and so I decided to ask to borrow it. That was the conversation that had both Sam driving me nuts and my guilt bubbling in my gut.

One might think that the reason I tried very hard to behave myself was that I didn't want to get into trouble. And although that did play a small role it was only a very small part of it. I have a horrible sense of guilt and it eats me up from the inside out. I get all jittery and feel like everyone is looking at me with laser eyes. I hate, absolutely hate that feeling and so I do everything I can to stay on the side of right.

So out and out lying is not something I do, ever. This little story seems to be the exception to not lying; a big exception. Not only did I lie to my father about what I was borrowing the paddle for but I also lied about where I was going to be Friday night. I didn't think he or my mother would approve of the sort of party that Landon, the swim captain, had planned. So I had suggested that I would be spending the night at Sean's place. And again this wasn't completely incorrect. I was going to sleep at Sean's place after the initiation party. These tiny truths are what allow me to tell the lie in the first place. If there was no truth in them I don't think my brain or stomach would allow my tongue to speak such inaccuracies.

If you hadn't already figured it out, things did not go as planned. Without even having gotten spoken to by either of my parents yet I've come to the conclusion that any plan that begins with a lie should be avoided at all costs.

* * *

><p>How about I go back to early Friday afternoon and bring you up to speed on the current situation.<p>

I arrived home Friday after school and started to remove by school books from my bag and pack for the night away from home. I packed a change of clothes, toiletries and of course the paddle GG had made so many years ago. As I was zipping up the bag Sam made one last ditch effort to convince me that I should find a way to lose the dreaded implement. He whined, pleaded and then tried yelling. My nerves were already raw from the past 3 days of lies about the events of that evening that I was neither patient nor considerate when dealing with him. He was being a pain in the ass little brother and I didn't feel like putting up with him.

What I'd like to know is why when I'm in the middle of a fight with my brother no one walks in when he's being unreasonable and yelling but they do walk in when I am calling him a pain in the ass. Just as the last syllable is out of my mouth I look up to see GG stride through the door. The look he shot in my direction had me quickly apologizing to Sam.

"GG…. GG… you saved me!" Sam's tone and actions were overplaying how awful I had been to him just moments before. "Whatcha doin' here GG?" Sam then asked confused as neither of us was expecting company.

"McGee called to say that they were going to be late this evening and that he didn't want Luc to have to change his plans" Gibbs explained before he continued "so you and I are going to hang out tonight."

My stomach started bubbling again. Jeez… make me feel even worse, everyone changing plans so that I could continue with my own. I just wanted to get out of the house start the evening forgetting what I'd done to make the arrangements. "Hey GG do you think I could take off now, I wasn't going to go until after supper so that I could feed and look after the squirt there" I said pointing to my little brother. "But since you're here…. I thought maybe I could head out early… do you mind?"

"Not at all… go have fun… stay out of trouble" GG called as I ran out of the kitchen, grabbed my bag and headed down the street to Sean's house.

Me showing up on the door step at Sean's place was not at all unusual and so when his mother opened the door she invited me in immediately. I made a beeline for his room and threw myself on his bed. Sean didn't even look up from his computer screen as he asked "What are you doing here now? I thought you were going to the party and then sneaking in the back door when it was all over" his tone confused but not accusatory.

I explained the change in plans and that I would still be using his unlocked back door later that night but I needed a place to spend the next few hours without my grandfather or brother looking over my shoulder. Sean and I had been friends for so long he didn't question anything I did anymore. He was more likely than I to get himself into wayward situations and so wasn't fazed by my decisions this evening.

When the time came I snuck out the back door so that Sean's parents didn't know I had left and made my way to Landon's. He lived much closer to the school and it was a good 20 minute bus ride. The driveway was full of cars as most of the team had their full licenses being seniors and drove themselves, maybe I could get a ride home at the end of the night I hoped to myself. I rang the door bell and waited. I could hear many voices behind the large wooden door but couldn't see anyone approaching. I rang the bell again wanting to be inside somehow feeling that being out in the open was going to blow my cover.

Finally the door opened a crack and Jeremy's face could be seen peering out. "Oh Hey Luc, com'on in" he said laughing a little too hardily for it to be normal. I was confused but too happy to be let in that I didn't even comment on his behavior.

A beer was thrust in my hand the moment I was in the living room. I tried to hand it back but was unsuccessful. I guess I would have to admit that my efforts were only half hearted as I didn't want to seem like a prude. But I felt really uncomfortable as I mingled amongst the team members and tried to make small talk. I guess it was not knowing what to do or say that had me start drinking the beer I'd been carrying around. It certainly wasn't because I wanted it, liked it or thought it was a good idea. One beer led to two and then I thought I would drink the punch instead. Ya, I know that was a stupid plan but after 2 beers and never having had that much alcohol in my life my thoughts were sort of fuzzy. It wasn't that I didn't know what I was doing. I did but it was like I was seeing everything through a fog of some sort. The fog just got heavier and heavier. By the time I saw the flashing blue and red lights through the curtain of the living room window I couldn't actually string more than 2 words together and didn't actually remember what had happened in the time between beer one and that moment.

Flashes of the inane stupidity came to me every so often if I thought very hard about it. Things like all of the new members ceremoniously handing over our borrowed objects to the captain. And Landon holding the objects over his head in the way a priest would hold up Holy Communion to bless it. I remember a gold ring, the paddle and something else lying across the coffee table as if it were an alter. I remember dares and acts of nerve that involved the paddle at some point in the night. I remember consuming some more beverages and maybe consuming something or other by smoking it but I'm not one hundred percent sure.

What I can't remember is how the police officer who was now standing over me had gotten my name, address or my father's contact information at work.


	2. The Week Tim's Point of View

It had been an unusual week. It started with a complete lack of cases at work. Since that happens rarely I try to make sure I get as much time at home as I can. I'd been able to play with Sam on several occasions and had made supper with Luc on those same evenings. Abby wasn't home those nights instead needing to firm up some evidence from cases going to court. Therefore it was just us "guys". The night Luc had asked to borrow the 'paddle' had been very strange; not only because of the request but because of Luc's behaviour. From the moment I agreed to lend it to Luc, Sam was pestering his older brother to no end about helping it to disappear. I had caught him only once but Luc's agitated responses suggested that it was happening a lot.

I carefully suggested to Sam that he needed to lay off his brother as Luc would soon lose it and I wasn't going to be very sympathetic to Sam's situation if Luc said or did anything. Being 10 Sam was well old enough to listen and understand yet he continued to harass. I ignored Luc's raised voice as he in no uncertain terms told his younger sibling to leave him alone.

On Thursday I asked Luc how his school project was going. I was trying to make small talk as we stood at the counter cutting up vegetables for supper. He had seemed jittery or nervous; I assumed it was because he had a 'skit' project at school coming up the following day. But as he answered he seemed even more upset if that was possible. I smiled. Luc was very much like me when it came to school. He was extremely smart but would get overly anxious about exams, projects or presentations. I completely understood the sentiment and changed tactics and talked instead about his swim team practices. Luc kept shooting me these looks that I couldn't interpret. In the end I stood quietly watching him.

I know being a teenager is not easy and I remember what it was like being younger than your classmates. High school was far worse than college in that respect and I hoped that next year Luc would find things a bit easier. I didn't like to see him so wound up. As the silence between us stretched I could sense the tension leaving Luc's body.

We set the table together and as we were serving out the food I said "Thanks for working with me on supper Luc, I appreciate your help." His reaction was one I didn't understand but again decided to ignore; he looked like he was about to cry.

In hindsight I should have pressed, I should have asked what the problem was; I should have asked what was going on. I know now that Luc was feeling guilty and "bad". If I had only pushed the issue a little last night he wouldn't have been able to hold it in and I wouldn't be driving to Landon's house to pick up my 16 year old son from the cops.

* * *

><p>Since it had been a slow week I was actually happy to get a call as I entered the squad room saying there was a body found at Quantico. We had spent the day processing the scene and I had returned to head quarters to sign in the evidence and begin the preliminary reports. I quickly realized that neither Abby nor I would be home in time for Luc to head over to Sean's house after supper and decided to ask Gibbs if he would mind sitting with Sam for the night. He'd been happy to step in; Gibbs enjoyed his time with the boys as much as they enjoyed him.<p>

Knowing that Gibbs was at home I wasn't rushing to get my work finished and I was hopeful that if I did as much as I could tonight tomorrow wouldn't be as crazy. I was totally entranced in my work that I actually jumped when the phone rang. It was late. Very late.

"Hello… Special Agent McGee" I answered officially not knowing who would be on the other end. And at first wasn't surprised to hear "Hello Special Agent McGee this is Constable Jonathan Stratford. " Why should I be surprised to hear from a local law enforcement officer when I was in was just starting a case. We often got calls and at all times of the day, so when I asked "What can I do for you Constable Stratford?" I was expecting information or questions about my new case. However his answer had me momentarily speechless. "I need to you to come and collect your son Lucas" he had said so matter of factly that I had trouble figuring out exactly what he meant by that. "Pardon me" I finally answered to the waiting man on the other end of the line. "Your son was attending a house party that got a little out of control and the neighbours called us in. You'll need to come immediately to collect him or we will transport him to the precinct." The officer explained to my stunned silence on the other end of the line. In a bit of a haze I got the specifics about the address, hung up and headed to Abby's lab to give her a quick update before I headed out.

Abby's response was one I expected but probably not one most people would imagine. She said absolutely nothing. Her face was set in anger as she nodded in my direction and then she turned back to the screen she had been working with. I kissed her cheek and whispered into her ear "It will be alright" before I made my way to the parking garage and my car.

I am then driving to some kid named Landon's house that I have never heard of let alone met. I can't keep any thought in my head long enough to process it. And the only thing that keeps playing through my head is "I'm going to kill him". Which isn't particularly helpful or productive but in circumstances such as these one doesn't always have control over one's emotions or instinctive reactions.

I don't remember the drive at all, what route I took or if I stopped at lights even. I'm sure I did but I don't recollect the actual actions. Pulling up in front of Landon's home I had trouble finding a parking spot as there were many cars in the driveway and in front of the house as well as 3 cruisers with lights still flashing.

Finally choosing to park blocking the end of the driveway figuring I wouldn't be there very long I took two or three deep breaths to calm myself and put on my most professional face. Going in as Special Agent McGee would be easier than going in as Lucas' Dad. Having gotten control I stepped out of the vehicle and walked purposefully to the front door where a young officer stood guard.


	3. Pick Up Time Luc's Point of View

I sat on the couch watching as parent after parent came to collect their son. I also watched as Chris and Jason were handcuffed and escorted out by a set of officers. The problem was I was too drunk to make much of the situation. I sat there like I was watching a television show, like I wasn't really part of the action. I couldn't be, could I. I was the 'good' kid. I didn't do things like this. This was something Sam would do… well if he was 16. Not ME! Thoughts like that skipped through my consciousness but were fleeting at best. I had to keep my eyes lowered to the floor because the flashing lights reflecting in the mirror above the fireplace made me feel dizzy and sick to my stomach and I had no interest in puking.

The minutes passed by at great speed and then in absolute slow motion. My body didn't feel like my own but whatever was in control of it decided that I was in desperate need of a washroom. I stood quickly, making my head spin and I staggered slightly as I took the first few steps. I was stopped from moving forward by a strong hand grabbing my upper arm. "Kid, where do you think you're going?" the officer asked harshly. I pointed towards the bathroom just a few paces down the hall as I didn't trust I could keep the contents of my stomach where they belonged if I spoke. "Oh" was all he said coming to the understanding that he really didn't want to prevent me from heading in that direction. He loosened his grip but didn't let go as he escorted me to the restroom. I really didn't want him to help but if I think about it, it was probably more out of safety as I wasn't particularly steady on my feet. He stood outside the room as I shut the door.

I was only in the room for a couple of seconds before the contents of my insides made a reappearance. Once I had freed my body of the toxins I felt much better. I slowly stood and shuffled to the sink, leaning against the counter I rinsed out my mouth. With my hands still on the counter I turned my eyes towards the mirror. The scary looking face staring back at me wasn't one I recognized. My hair was disheveled, there were dark circles under my eyes, the collar of my polo was torn and sat funny on my shoulders. I had enough were withal to realize that I needed to do something about the way I appeared. I took a few seconds to try and make my reflection look less of a mess. I wasn't having much luck when I heard the knock at the door and the officer asked "Kid, you alright in there?"

"Ya" I answered quickly as I wanted another moment alone before I headed back out to the waiting. Collecting myself as best I could I opened the door and looked up the couple of inches into the man's eyes. I expected to see disgust or anger, but instead I saw concern and disappointment. "Com' on kid, let's go" he said quietly as he turned back to the living room and I began to follow. As we reached the end of the short hallway the officer stopped and I followed suit almost bumping into him. I scanned the room to see what had him halted and saw my father standing by the front door his hands tensing at his sides, his face set in an expression I was unable to discern. He looked huge standing there. I quickly dropped my gaze and slid sideways so that I was completely shielded by the officer's body. I had always laughed at Sam when he hid behind me, yet it had been instinctive to dive for cover. I made a mental note that I wouldn't make fun of Sam again for such an action.

There was a quiet as thick as molasses as my father slowly approached the man ahead me. It was like in the movies where only the one person moved at a 'normal' pace and the rest of the scene was frozen in time. My father flashed his badge and id as he introduced himself. The officer held out his hand and said "I'm Constable Jonathan Stratford" offering his hand to shake. It was in that instant that the rest of the scene sped back up to meet the standard progression of time. He then pointed to the couch and started walking in that direction this time it took me a second to start kick myself into movement. But with my human defense system no longer in place I felt very vulnerable and speedily caught up staying closer to Officer Stratford. I stood there hearing but not listening to the explanation of the events of the evening with my hands shoved deep in the pockets of my jeans. I chanced a few quick glances at my dad's face. It took several attempts but finally I understood the expression. It was his "I'm working" face. He was gathering evidence and witness statements. Great! I thought, I'm just another one of his cases. I couldn't decide if I was angry or saddened by that realization. But my fuzzy head didn't allow me to make great leaps of understanding. The overwhelming feeling of "He's going to kill me" only grew by the second and by the time I was heading out to the car it was the only thing I could think. Officer Stratford had joined us in our walk to the car and it was he who had held open the passenger door for me and then proceeded to close it once I had placed myself in the seat.

As my father entered the vehicle he nodded a thanks to the man outside my window. He then buckled his seat belt, then he spent the longest 10 seconds of my life staring at me. I was staring out the windscreen but could see him in my peripheral vision. He then turned on the car and pulled into the road.

The completely silent drive unnerved me. I was expecting yelling and screaming. Not that he normally yelled and screamed but the few times he had would be commiserate with the current situation. I think I would have rather him be irate, the silence made the 15 minute drive feel like an hour. And as I slowly extricated myself from the car I made sure not to make eye contact in any way shape or form. I headed into the house not waiting for him as I knew he would follow.

Walking into the house I faltered as I caught sight of GG sleeping on the chair with his feet up on the ottoman. He opened one eye as he slowly raised himself to sitting properly. I was like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. I knew I should be moving my feet to get out of the situation but I couldn't make it happen. After he scrubbed his face with the palms of both of his hands he looked at me with an expression of confusion and then disappointment as he must have realized that something was not right. I was saved by my dad as he entered the house, removed his jacket and while hanging it in the front closet instructed "Lucas go to bed. We'll talk tomorrow when I get home from work." With an instruction to follow I was finally able to put my feet in motion. I didn't even look at either of them as I sped up the stairs and into my room.

I let myself fall on top of the blankets barely moving the pillow under my exhausted head. Sleep was almost instantaneous, which was a blessing as I think any time awake would have allowed panic to set in.


	4. Pick up Time Tim's Point of View

I only needed to hold up my credentials for the young officer to move to the side and allow me entrance to the house. The scene I walked into was one right out of 'Animal House' or one of the other many fraternity party movies Tony talked about. It took my breath away. My son was part of this chaos. He was partially responsible for this situation. The room was trashed; a broken lamp on the floor, food and empty cups littered the floor. Beer bottles and disposable shot glasses covered every flat surface. The large mirror above the fire place was cracked. The fire had been lit at some point earlier in the night and only a bed of red embers were left except there was enough of a side table left for it to be recognizable in the ashes.

I just shook my head. I stood transfixed taking in the scene, my hands flexing as a way of trying to keep the rest of me calm. There were a couple officers in the kitchen area talking quietly. There was an officer in the hallway standing guard in front of a door. There was another officer off to the side with another teen I quickly came to assume was Landon. I didn't immediately see Luc and anxiety tried to quickly take over my professional façade. But before the panic could envelope me I heard the door in the hallway open and saw Luc trundle in behind the officer.

He was in such a sorry state. My heart broke seeing my son in such a mess. His shirt was torn in such a way as it no longer sat properly on his body. He was the text book case of someone half drunk half hung over. He didn't immediately see me and I got a few seconds to assess the situation without him trying to portray something specific. What I saw was his head and shoulders hung in defeat and self loathing. When he finally noticed me standing by the door he quickly hid behind the officer leading him down the hallway. I was easily able to control the smile that tried to creep onto my face as he reminded me of his younger brother Sam who would take refuge behind Luc whenever he'd gotten himself into trouble. But it reminded me of how young Luc really was. We expect teens to act like adults yet they really aren't and have great lapses in judgment. Somehow we are surprised when this happens yet they are still growing up.

The scene before me didn't mean I wasn't going to kill him because I was still going to make sure he never pulled another stunt like this ever again. But seeing him so miserable had me understanding that at that very moment Luc was more ashamed of himself than I was disappointed in him. Luc's own sense of capital "r" right was so deeply ingrained that he hated to do anything wrong. His sense of responsibility and guilt meant that he was unlikely to get himself into these situations. Which was the reason I was so curious as to what exactly happened to him to have participate in this fiasco.

Officer Stratford stood at the edge of the living room and opening his arm gestured for me to lead the way into the room. Lucas stuck pretty close to the officer as the man explained how they had been called by the next door neighbour when they heard breaking glass and a scream of pain that they couldn't ignore as they had been trying to do with the overly loud music and obviously crazy party that was happening. One of the teens had been shoved into a table full of glasses and bottles and been badly cut in several places across his back. Two of the teens in attendance had been arrested for possession of narcotics. Although the officers suspected that many of the other party goers had partaken in the drugs they were not pressing any charges as there wasn't enough evidence. Most of the kids who had never been in trouble with the law in the past had been sent home with their parents with a warning that should they ever be involved in something like this they can expect to be arrested for at least mischief if not something more severe. He finally ended by saying "You'd best get this sorry sack home to bed" motioning with his thumb over his shoulder at Lucas. He then followed us out to the car and made sure Luc got in and buckled up before closing the passenger door.

I nodded in thanks to the man and got into the vehicle myself. Lucas was sitting staring straight ahead. I took a few moments and watched him. In those seconds I thought about the little boy he had been, the circumstances that must have lead to him making such poor decisions and the man he was likely to become. Taking a deep breath I turned the car and headed home.

I didn't say anything. Mostly because I had no idea where to start but somewhere inside I also realized that in his current state Luc couldn't process anything anyway. I saw him take surreptitious glances in my direction. I didn't let on. I decided that it would be best if he just went home and slept this haze off. There will be more than enough time tomorrow for discussion.

When I parked the car in the driveway Luc didn't hesitate in getting out and trudging up the front walk to the house. I was only a second or two behind him but it was long enough for him to run head long into a sleeping Gibbs. Having grown up with a father who Tony likened to the main character in "The Great Santini" and then made the connection that Gibbs would also be a good "real life" example I understood Luc's hesitation about that particular encounter as well.

I might not be perfectly self aware but I am pretty sure that I am not at all like either of those men and dealing with an upset or angry me would be far easier than Luc having to deal with his GG. Seeing his frozen form in the hallway I simply told him "Lucas go to bed. We'll talk tomorrow when I get home from work." Having something to do gave Luc the energy he needed to overcome the temporary paralysis. He darted up the stairs at a pace I wasn't sure I could have accomplished if I'd had that much alcohol in my own system.

I exhaled loudly as I received a knowing and supportive look from Gibbs. Without a word he invited me to follow him into the kitchen where he dug through the cupboards for a coffee he would drink and began to brew us both a strong cup. I leaned my hips against the counter as he did the same on the other side of the kitchen. He folded his arms across his chest and then waited. I had worked with him for almost 2 decades before he'd retired and Tony and I had taken on teams of our own yet I was still unable to say as much as he did with a simple look.

His steely blue eyes unsettled me to this day. A stern look from them would have had me back pedaling quicker than you could say "sorry boss". But tonight those eyes looked sad. He stood waiting as I began my story. I rambled on for some time. Telling him the specifics as if it had been a case I was working on but as I got to the end of the pertinent details my story easily flowed into the emotional turmoil of the story and my journey from seething anger and disgust to feeling sorry for my son.

During my bumpy recollection of the evening Gibbs poured two large mugs and handed me one. He stood sipping the hot liquid as he listened. Again he didn't say a word as I asked questions. Waiting for answers I would take a sip of my own drink. Squinting as it passed down my throat at its strong bitterness. As I spoke again I would answer my own question and move on to the next. When our cups were empty he took them and placed them in the sink, turned on the tap and rinsed them out. Gibbs wrapped his arm around my back and roughly patted my opposite shoulder. Leading me to the front door he let go and took his own jacket out of closet and donned it. As he turned to head home all he did was smile and quietly say "you'll do just fine McGee".

As I watched him traverse the yard an idea came to me. "Can I bring Luc by your place in the morning when I head to work?"

He nodded in agreement as he got into his truck and drove away leaving me on the front porch watching after him.

Before heading to my own bed I stopped in to check on Sam first and then Luc. I brought the elder a glass of water and some headache tablets that I roused him enough to force him to take and drink. I don't think he paid me much attention as he rolled over and was instantly back to sleep.

Sitting on my bed I pulled open my laptop and emailed Abby with the details I had gotten since I last spoke to her. With a new case having just begun she would be up to her elbows with evidence and I knew she was not likely to be home before I got back to work the next morning. With everyone safe and sound I finally allowed myself to lie down and close my eyes letting sleep overtake me.


	5. Morning Luc's Point of View

OK…. You are now caught up. It is Saturday morning and I am sitting on the edge of my bed, my head resting in my hands because I don't think I could hold it upright without the aid of my limbs. I haven't got the …. courage… no I don't have the will… no I don't have the want…. I don't know what you would call it… but I do not want to go down to breakfast. I don't want to face them. I don't want to have the conversation that is likely to start "What the hell were you thinking?"

Not only because I have no clue what I was thinking but I also can't tell them what exactly I ended up doing. I get flashes of remembering the night before. None of those film clips are anything I wanted to say out loud. The only clear picture I had was my father standing in the doorway of Landon's house and it wasn't one I wanted to keep replaying even though some perverse part of my psyche kept doing just that.

I am still dressed in my torn shirt and jeans from the night before and although the shower is calling my name I don't think I can stand without being sick again. I need to take a couple of deep breaths and then I stand. I'm feeling green and my head feels like it is literally splitting in two. I'm positive the hot shower will help me feel better and so I force one foot in front of the other to get across my room and slowly open my door and peer around the edge to make sure the coast is clear. I really can't face anyone even Sam before I get cleaned up. The hallway is clear so I step out and quietly make my way to the washroom quickly closing the door behind me and locking it. I lean against it as if I was a fugitive listening to see if they've eluded the fuzz.

Turning on the water I sit on the side of the tub as all this motion is really making my stomach turn uncomfortably. I am fighting the need to be sick, but in a flash of strange logic I allow my body's overwhelming urge take over and rush to the toilet to empty my stomach for the second time. Just like last night it actually makes me feel better. I stand at the sink and rinse my mouth before disrobing and climbing carefully into the shower. The hot water is pouring over my aching body and I am starting to feel a little better. I am not paying attention to how long I am standing here. I am losing myself in the feeling of the water hitting my head and then rolling slowly down my face and back washing away the grime of yesterday night and loosening a few of the tense muscles.

The water is turning cold and that is my only signal to get out of the shower. I turn off the water and grab a towel out of the cupboard drying my hair first and then the rest of my body. Sucking in air as the towel touches several nasty bruises that are splattered in various locations all over my body. As the towel rubs uncomfortably on the damaged skin I am able to recall how the bruises came to be there. The thoughts themselves have me sucking in air again. Maybe I can have 'the' conversation with dad without needing to say anything specific. Plead the fifth so to speak or say I just don't remember. Because I don't really remember specifically it wouldn't be lying. And as that thought happens I am besieged with the understanding that lying is what got me into this disastrous mess in the first place so doing it again would be more than just a little unadvisable.

I've forgotten to bring a change of clothes with me and so I have to wrap the towel around my waist and make the trip back to my room half naked. I quietly turn the knob feeling like a cat burglar again as I tip toe towards the safety of my room. Just before I make it to shelter of my own space Sam runs out of his room and almost right into me. "Whoa monkeyshine slow down" I admonish instinctively forgetting that I am trying to keep a low profile and speaking is like turning on a homing beacon. Before the sentence is out of my mouth my dad is standing in the doorway of his own room at the end of the hallway. I turn myself quickly towards my own sanctuary and take a step towards it hoping he isn't going to start on me, I'm not ready yet. But instead of anger or disappointment the look on his face is one of concern. It isn't until he is standing beside me gently moving his fingers over my blackened shoulder that I understand he going through all the horrible scenarios that could have been responsible for leaving such a mark on his boy. "Dad I'm fine" I answer quickly as I try again to enter my room. Gently putting his hand on my chest to stop me from going any farther he asks "Is this the only injury you have?" answering his own question when he realizes his forearm is covering another nasty bruise and shallow cut across my left ribcage. "I'm calling Palmer" he states turning back towards his room. "Please don't" I hear myself pleading. "I'm fine, really I am. Dad, please don't call Palmer. They're just bruises I'll be fine." I tried to sound less like I was begging and more like I was stating facts. My father turned to look at me his expression a mixture of exasperation and worry. "Lucas that bruise across your chest could mean you have cracked ribs. You can't know for sure." His voice caring not recriminating as I expected it to be.

We are now standing in the hall in a non verbal standoff. I can see his thoughts jump across his face. And so when I see that it finally rests on deciding that he will leave it, if not for good at least for now I finally enter my room. It takes me several minutes to find a shirt that doesn't have rough seems that feel like they are digging into my shoulder injury or had a crest on the chest that rubbed uncomfortably on my ribs. Maybe turning down medical care wasn't the right choice; but I am not going to tell him that. I can't unwin that situation; not right now.

Dressed I finally walked slowly down the stairs to the kitchen. My right thigh is burning with each step. I regret every decision I made leading up to this moment. My own body reminding with every movement just how poor those decisions really were. By the pile of dishes in the sink I was the only one who hadn't yet consumed any breakfast and although I was feeling less sick I still couldn't imagine putting much on my just settling stomach. Toast seems like a safe choice and I put a couple of slices in the toaster and I wait leaning against the counter rubbing my temples in an inadequate attempt to calm the pounding. Sitting carefully in my usual spot at the table I take a couple of bites of my meager meal. I am so preoccupied with my dire situation that I hadn't noticed my father enter the room until I saw his hand place 2 tablets on my plate with his gentle words "Here take these it will help your aches as well as the headache I assume you must have".

"Thanks Dad" I answer without looking up. Maybe if I don't look at him he won't talk to me. With the tablets and a piece of toast consumed my brain seems to be able to function a little better. I all of a sudden recall that last night he said we would talk when he was back from work. That meant I had all day to pull myself together and get ready for 'the' conversation. Relief flooded over me as I understood how the day would go. I had time to pull my story together, perfect my wording. Just as a smile was forming on my lips I heard Dad say "Com'on boys we're leaving now". I am so confused that I don't move or say anything until he gives the instruction again a little more forcefully. "Pardon me?" I ask still confused.

"I have to go to work today. You know we caught a new case yesterday. Sam is going to Noah's place for the day and I'm taking you to Gibbs' place" he explained as if I was supposed to already have this information. I racked my brain thinking back to when this information was told to me before and came up empty. "I'll be fine here Dad. I promise I won't leave." I tried to say without whining although that was how I felt. "Nope… I've already made arrangements ….let's go" he motioned with his hand as if he were a third base coach encouraging a runner to come from second. "I'll stay in my room all day… I promise I won't leave… I won't watch tv or anything" offering any and all forms of grounding that have been threatened in the past in hopes of being able to stay home.

"Lucas, this isn't up for discussion. You're spending the day at GG's house, now get your jacket and let's go." He was obviously losing his patience but was still speaking calmly so I tried one last time. "Please Dad. I won't get into any trouble here at all. I think I'll feel better faster staying home in my own room" I tried.

"Get your jacket and get in the car right now if you know what is good for you" his tone no longer calm or gentle.


	6. Morning Tim's Point of View

When I awoke in the morning it was later than I had anticipated. I had wanted to get an early start on the day so that I could be home at a more reasonable hour to talk to Luc. Unfortunately the late night meant I had forgotten to set my alarm. Flustered I dragged myself to the bathroom for a shower and shave. Dressed for the day I finally went looking for my boys. Sam was in the kitchen eating toaster waffles covered in chocolate syrup, a favourite breakfast of his, and Luc had not yet made an appearance. Completely understandable since he was probably feeling like death warmed over at this point. I decided to eat first and then if there was no sign of him I would get him up. With my last mouthful of coffee sipped I heard the tall tale signs of life from my eldest's room.

I could hear the shower start and Luc being sick. I contemplated going to make sure he was ok but chose instead to stay put. If I had been in his shoes I am sure I wouldn't want my father standing over me even if he did mean well. I let him have his space. Today was going to be hard enough for him as it was I didn't need to rub it in.

I sent Sam up to get dressed for the day and took him into my bathroom to supervise him brushing his teeth as he had recently decided he didn't need to do that anymore. Once he was finished he ran from the room and I once again sat on my bed and open my laptop. Abby would have probably slept in the lab as she often does when new cases have crazy amounts of evidence to process but I wanted a message waiting for her with an update on things to this point. They weren't much different from last night but she would be worrying.

I heard the shower stop and was just finishing up my emails when I heard Luc say "Whoa monkeyshine slow down" and I quickly caught up to them in the hallway. Luc was only dressed in a towel the covered his body from the waist to his knees, exposing his upper body. An angry dark black bruise covered his left shoulder and upper back. It was enormous and looked horrible. I touched it gently to see if there was more extensive damage below the skin. I didn't feel any. "is this the only injury you have?" I asked as carefully as I could as I didn't want him to get all defensive and not tell me about something because he felt ashamed or accused. He tried to walk away without answering and when I put up my hand to stop him from moving forward I noticed another bruise on his chest this one accentuated with a cut. "I'm calling Palmer" I declare as I began to head towards my room to get a phone. Lucas then begins to plead with me that he isn't in need of medical care. This is completely laughable because whatever happened to cause those bruises was something rather significant and the fact that he was drunk when they happened means he probably can't tell me exactly what happened.

We have a show down of sorts without any words and in the end I decide that forcing him to see Palmer isn't going to gain us anything but a longer argument. He's a smart kid and I have to trust that although last night he wasn't making good decisions that he knows his body well enough to understand how severely it is injured.

I retreat to my own room allowing him time to dress and start breakfast. He doesn't need anyone telling him how stupid he was. He knows. I can see it in the way he moves, talks and the permanent expression of shame on his face.

When I finally enter the kitchen Luc is eating dry toast his head lowered so that he doesn't have to look at anyone. I can see he is hoping that everyone will just leave him alone. As I told him last night we will talk when I get home from work, leaving him time to think about his predicament and accept what happened and what is going to happen. So he is not in danger of me starting any conversation I can't finish. Sam who I would have guessed would have been all over Luc inquiring what had happened and pestering him for details was remarkably quiet. He watched his brother covertly from the living room. But not once did he ask what had happened or make a snide comment. I was impressed with Sam's self restraint but was also worried that his reaction was out of fear and not because he was respecting the space his brother needed.

I open the kitchen cupboard and pull down the bottle of ibuprofen and take two tablets myself for the headache that is growing by the minute in my skull and take another two over to my son. Placing them on the side of his plate I tell him "Here take these it will help your aches as well as the headache I assume you must have".

It had been many years before I had been drunk but it wasn't so long ago that I didn't remember what it was like the next morning. Unlike Luc I had been in college before I had made such a choice but the boys had always had their mother's sense of adventure more than mine. He thanked me without looking up as I expected. I gently patted his shoulder as I headed to the closet to gather my jacket and backpack. Once I was ready I called to the boys to get ready and join me in the car.

For the second time since I picked Luc up from Landon's last night he dared to challenge what I'd said. At first I tried to sound understanding and simply state what was happening, but he kept pushing saying he was going to stay in his room, that he wouldn't leave. It wasn't that I didn't trust him. That was not why I was taking him to his grandfather's house. I didn't want him sitting in his room wallowing in self pity and self recrimination all day so that by the time I got to him tonight he was more of a mess than he was right now. At Gibbs' he would be forced to look at the situation for what it was and maybe come up with an idea as to what was the ultimate cause for the situation.

Sam stood at the front door jacket and runners already on staring disbelievingly at Luc. You could see that Sam thought Luc had lost his mind. He was confused by his brother's uncharacteristic reaction.

I stated the plan more firmly and this time his dissention continued. I was running out of both patience and time so I moved onto threats and I growled "Get your jacket and get in the car right now if you know what is good for you".


	7. Drop Off Luc's Point of View

I sat in the backseat of the car beside Sam; a place I had fought for years to not have to sit. I didn't want to be beside my father right then. He wasn't happy and I wasn't in any frame of mind to keep myself out of trouble. So physical distance seemed the best solution to the emotional distance I craved. I leaned my forehead against the cool window as we drove through the streets, the route so familiar that even with my eyes closed I could tell where we were. No one talked for the entire drive and when we pulled up in front of GG's house Dad stopped the car and got out without a word. He just expected me to follow him. I didn't want to get out of the car; I didn't want to go to GG's house. I didn't want to have to face someone else who knew. I sat eyes closed, arms folded, and head leaning against the window hoping that maybe my silent protest would allow me to at least come to work with Dad. At least there I could find the quiet solitude I was seeking.

Instead the car door was wrenched open and if I hadn't still been buckled in I probably would have fallen out. And as if I was 3 my father leaned into the vehicle released the seatbelt and unceremoniously heaved my sorry ass out of the car. We were now standing toe to toe on the driveway and for the first time since this whole mess started I looked at his face. My jaw set, rage burning in my eyes I stared at him with the most disrespectful glare I could manage. Anger is a ridiculous emotion. It gives us the ability to 'fight' when 'flight' is really the wisest choice. I rarely saw my father angry. He was more likely to be disappointed or frightened when either my brother or I found ourselves facing him for some transgression. Yet today standing in GG's driveway I saw that he was furious. He too was clenching his teeth, he had stuffed his hands deep into his jacket pockets and his eyes mirrored the rage mine held.

One would think that seeing your father truly angry for the first time would have self preservation or common sense kick into full swing, but nope. I can say that instead of backing down or walking away which would have been more advisable I sneered "What the hell is your problem?" as I pushed past him my right shoulder knocking his left hard enough he had to step back. Yes… I know that was stupid but I was feeling so self deprecating that I wasn't really thinking clearly.

Before I had even taken two steps he had grabbed my upper arm and stopped any forward motion. I saw him close his eyes tightly and take a deep breath before he leaned forward and in a creepily quiet whisper said "I am this close" holding his thumb and pointer finger about a quarter inch apart "to taking you behind the house and making sure that you won't be sitting comfortably for a month." Pausing for a few seconds to make sure his words sank in he then asked me "Do you understand young man?"

It wasn't actually his threat that snapped me back to reality. It was the look he had on his face after he'd said the words. His face showed fear. I wasn't sure what he was afraid of but it was that fear that had me finally feeling contrite. I looked at him my own anger having dissipated as quickly as it had boiled up and just nodded. I didn't trust my own voice to respond with the correct tone or words. He seemed satisfied with my response and followed me into the house.

We let ourselves in without knocking something that had been confusing for me when I was younger but now was just the thing to do. Dad stood at the door watching as I took off my coat and hung my jacket in the closet. I stood there watching him not knowing exactly what he wanted me to do. With a tilt of his head and a leading glance to the door at the top of the stairs he was telling me to go find GG. I tried one last time to plead my case. I used no words but I knew he understood what I was saying because as he turned to go back to the car he said "Trust me this is for the best" and then closed the door both literally and figuratively on the conversation.

I stood in the entrance way feeling somewhat abandoned. What did you mean by "for the best"? Best for what? Who? GG was the only person, other than Aunt Ziva that could kill someone without blinking an eye. How was spending the day with an angry sniper for the best? Ok I was getting a little over dramatic but given the circumstances you can understand. I walked slowly and as quietly as I could to the top of the stairs but stayed far enough from the door that I couldn't be seen. It didn't matter he still called up "You going to spend the day lurking or are you coming down?"

Lurking actually sounded like a better idea. The other option was walking voluntarily into the lion's den and that just didn't sound pleasant. I guess I hesitated just a little too long because the next thing he said was "Lucas James Garret McGee Front and Center" in his gunnery sergeant voice. No one and I mean no one, not even the nastiest criminal could disregard such an order and I found myself gingerly making my way down the stairs and the few paces across the floor to stand before him without a second thought. I may have been standing there but that didn't mean I had to look at him. Well that was until he took my chin in his hand cupping it gently but tipping it back so that I couldn't help but look at him. I still tried to avoid direct eye contact. Neither of us spoke or moved for what felt like an eon. I may only be half an inch shorter than he is but I felt like I was 3 years old.

Finally he said "you don't look too worse for wear I guess." He then let go of my face and turned quietly back to his work. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I had never felt so out of place or uncomfortable in my own skin. I cautiously turned back to the stairs and sat on the landing near the bottom and carefully slid back so that I was leaning delicately against the wall. I didn't see him but I could tell he was watching me. I sat my knees bent loosely so that the back of my right thigh didn't touch my calf. My arms casually lay across the top of my knees and my head rested against the wall behind me. I sat watching him work and he continued at his task in complete silence. When I first sat down my thoughts and emotions were a jumbled mess and I couldn't have extricated any one even if asked a specific question. However as the time passed and I just watched him work my head began to clear. The thoughts first completely disappeared and then as I sat there and my hands started to go numb from being in the same position for so long I was able to think about the situation more concisely.

As if a light turned on above my head GG turned towards me right at that moment. How does he do that? I thought just as he asked "So" then waited for me to continue.


	8. Drop Off Tim's Point of View

I watched as he threw himself into the backseat and then winced as his bruises made contact with the car upholstery. Sam was the one that was shocked to see his brother beside him. I'm sure he was thinking that his brother had gone off the deep end. Luc had petitioned for a very long time to be allowed in the front seat sighting his younger brother's propensity to hit him as one of the reasons he should be allowed. I knew why he was in the back seat. It gave him the feeling of being away from me. I had a hard time not feeling hurt. I know that is silly. I am a grown man and he was my child. But that is just it… he is my child… who would rather be as far away from me as possible. I feel I had been very reasonable in how I was acting. I had stayed calm, given him physical space and not pushed on issues such as the need to see Palmer for his injuries. I had done everything I could to make myself approachable. Well… there was a slight lapse in getting him to the car but really he was lucky he was dealing with who he was dealing with.

If my own father had to have come and retrieve me from the police from a house that looked like that one did last night and I had been hammered…Well… I don't think I would have made it home alive… at least not without an earful… and there is no way on God's green earth he would have given me space to think things over… no way he would have even tried to be caring or understanding… I would simply have been murdered on the spot …end of statement.

So having him avoid me so outwardly had me in an emotional turmoil of my own; where had I gone wrong? When had Lucas stopped being able to speak to me? The whole trip to Gibbs' place I questioned my approach, my relationship with Luc. Which was ridiculous really but in times of stress I think our minds make journeys of their own accord without our direct input.

Then we get to the house and I take a deep breath, take a moment to step into his shoes and head for the door allowing him the distance he is seeking. And what does he do? He stays in the car. He doesn't follow me. He doesn't even make the slightest effort to follow me. The next few seconds just happened. It was like I was walking up the front walk way and then I was standing next to a petulant brat. His outright defiance when I was trying to be understanding made something inside of me snap. I hauled him out of that car as if he was a tantruming 3 year old. We stood face to face. The anger I saw in his eyes had me flying fully over the edge I had been teetering on. He had the gall to be angry with me. I returned his angry glare in hopes of bringing him back to reality of which one of us was supposed to be the angry party. Instead he spat out "What the hell is your problem?" as he physically pushed me aside on his way past.

In those few moments as the rage inside me built to an all time high I lost all perspective and was running on pure adrenalin. I grabbed his arm to stop him going any further and I whispered "I am this close to taking you behind the house and making sure that you won't be sitting comfortably for a month." I paused only long enough for the words to sink in and then I asked "Do you understand young man?"

I don't know at which point in that sentence the shock hit me but when it did two things raced through my head.

First was that I had spoken words I had heard myself from my own father. Words I had sworn I would never speak. I had many years of adulthood to reflect on being a parent before either of the boys was born. And in that time had decided that I was going to be different than my own father. I was going to be there emotionally for my children. I was going to respect them in all facets of their lives and I would not be a commanding officer while at home. And standing in Gibbs' driveway I had broken that promise to myself and my boys.

Second was that to say those words I had lost complete control of my emotions and actions. To anyone else this may seem as though it was understandable and I should just move on. But I carry a loaded gun on my hip to work with me every day. I hold the lives of many people in my hands when we enter a crime scene, go after a fugitive or enter a building. If I am not in complete control what could happen?

I had lost control and that scared me. My expression changed as I came to these conclusions and with it so did Lucas' expression. His eyes dropped to the ground and his shoulders sagged. He turned towards the house with an air of defeat.

I followed and waited as he took off his coat. He looked at me longingly, pleading with his sad eyes to take him with me. I wanted to hug him. To tell him I loved him. I wanted him to understand that the reason he was spending the day with GG was so that he had an opportunity to work things through with guidance. I wasn't leaving him here because I didn't trust him. Instead I walked to the door and told him "Trust me this is for the best" and left without looking back.

I can only imagine how he must have felt. But I don't think there was much I could have done differently as he wasn't accepting of my presence.

The drive to Noah's house was just as quiet. I looked in the rear view mirror a few times to check on Sam. He was looking out the window staring off into the streets beyond. A couple of times I caught him looking at the back of my seat mouth open ready to ask a question and then he would close it again and turn back to the passing scenery.

I would have to have a chat with him this evening as well by the looks of things. As I handed Sam's backpack over to Noah's mother I felt so much alone. Today was one of those days that I wish I had a boring desk job where I could easily call in sick. A job I could put after the boys.

It took the entire drive to NCIS head quarters before I had come to the conclusion that like Luc I needed the day. I needed the time to work through my own emotions and feelings so that when we finally had our chat at the end of the day. And Sam would easily be able to cope until the end of the day and probably he too needed the day to work through his feelings about what was going on around him. He would have Noah to talk to if he needed.

This was going to be a long day for everyone.


	9. The Morning Luc's Point of View

"So" I repeated back to him with a question in my voice. He didn't say anything he just turned his head long enough to shoot me a look that suggested I was supposed to fill him in. Before I began talking I thought about how I wished I could say everything I wanted to, everything I had to with a couple of looks. It would be so much easier than saying it all out loud. Hearing it would make it more real, would solidify the slurry of images that continued to flow in and out of my thoughts.

My hesitation was just long enough that GG turned back towards me and raised his eye brows to encourage me to continue. Where should I start? What should I include? What should I not include? The last being the most relevant question.

"I'm an idiot" I started. Really that was how I was feeling and who could argue with the assessment? When I didn't elaborate or continue he quietly made a "hmm" sort of noise. It was more encouraging than you might think. "Well I am" I continued. "Dad hates me…. he is never going to forgive me… ever" I said emphasizing the never spitting the word out around the others.

GG's hands didn't even stop working as he looked at me over the top of his glasses. His 'you're being ridiculous' look on his face. "You weren't there you didn't see him. You didn't hear him." I said in defense of my outrageous statement.

"Lucas…Your father… you know darn well that McGee doesn't hate you …you know what.. how 'bout you tell me what happened…" I don't know why when this man speaks you just seem to just do what he says. Like you don't even process his words you just follow through.

I sat for only a few seconds before I started talking. At first I just explained how I came to be at Landon's house in the first place. What the party was for and how I had made up the story about going to Sean's. The strange thing was I just told the story as if it was someone else. Admitting all transgressions of lying and deceit without a blink of the eye, I was able to tell the story as if it was someone else. It actually felt good to finally tell someone what had been going on all week.

I even told him about the whole needing to bring the paddle with me and how that need had come to be. Complete with the convincing the team that theft was the wrong thing to do. I didn't just tell GG about the events like one might think. I told him how I felt through the whole. How I was stressed about having lied, how I felt like everyone was looking at me knowing I had been untruthful. I told him how Sam's behavior had proven a catalyst for even more guilt and frustration.

GG stood at his workbench slowly carving the wood in his hands. I spent most of my time looking at my hands that were wringing of their own accord but I did notice that occasionally he would take a quick glance in my direction; mostly when I took a moment to collect my thoughts. A few times hot stinging tears tried to over take me but I was able to keep them in check and take a deep breath or with a hesitation I was back in control.

When I got to the part of the story where I left for Sean's place when he had arrived at our house I took a few moments to observe him. It was the first part of the story that directly included him and although I hadn't lied about where I was going it was definitely done under false pretences. I wanted to see if his reaction would change when he was the one in which the deception was directed at. Nothing. No change in stance. No difference in expression. He just stood listening. I was about to continue on the story when I couldn't. I opened my mouth and nothing came out. I dropped my head and fought back the tears that threatened again.

I didn't notice him take a few minutes and watch me. He didn't encourage me to continue. He didn't say anything. We sat silently for a long time. I'm not sure how long it was as my mind swirled once again. I felt like I had when I first arrived, confused and guilty. As the swirling turned into an internal hurricane I lost control of the waterworks and my eyes spilt the salty mess of tears down my cheeks. I fervently tried to use my sleeves to stem the flow to no avail. It took me some time to finally get control of my outward emotions however I still didn't have control of what was going on inside my head.

GG is an amazing man. He had spent most of his life learning to read people and getting them to talk even when they didn't want to. I am sure that as we sat in his basement both silent and still he could have easily said something to force me to continue my story but instead he dropped his tools and took off his safety glasses. Wiping his hands on a rag he strode over to my perch grabbed my hand and helped me to stand. I winced as the movement pulled on my ribcage and hurt my leg. His blue eyes flashed with concern and without preamble or question he raised my shirt high enough to reveal the purple blotch on my chest, accentuated with a cut.

"Has Palmer seen that yet?" GG asked pointing to the injury through my t-shirt he has now let go of. I shook my head no, not trusting myself not to cry again if I used my lips to speak the words. He didn't even give me a chance to protest, his phone was out of his pocket and open in a millisecond. I heard him ask Palmer about the case and if he thought he would have a moment or two to check me out. I could hear Palmer's muffled voice on the other end but I couldn't discern any of the words. With a flick of his finger GG had the phone closed and back in his pocket. He then gently turned me by the shoulder and then with his hand in the small of my back he directed me to climb the stairs ahead of him.

As we crossed the threshold of the basement door he over took my stride and headed to the front door, taking both his and my jacket from the closet. I didn't make any effort to move from my current post at the top of the stairs. He only waited for a couple of seconds before he raised his right hand and with his finger beckoned me to follow him. Like Pavlov's dog responding to the bell I was kicked into gear and I quickly caught up to him as he walked out to his truck.

Unlike this morning I couldn't sit in the back seat, seeing as the truck didn't have one. He pulled out of the driveway looking at me as much as the road. I watched as he glanced at the clock on the dash several times and so I was not surprised when he asked "You want to go through the drive thru and pick up a pita or salad or something?" He waited patiently for me to assess whether or not I thought I could stomach something. I realized that I was actually feeling hungry and a pita sounded like it would actually go down pretty good.

"Ya, a pita sounds great" answering him without removing my gaze from the passenger window.

He took a different route to head quarters taking a detour through the pita pit drive thru. He handed me my order saying "Eat it you'll probably feel better once you have". He sipped his coffee but his lunch sat untouched in the bag, I figured he would probably eat it while I was being examined by Palmer. After a few bites I felt a little braver and tried "I don't need to be seen by Palmer. I'm fine. Dad le' …" but I was cut off with a brisk "it's not a suggestion Bear". I'd been around this man enough to know that I wasn't going to win this argument. I sat dejectedly eating my lunch taking huge gulps of my juice to wash it down. We didn't say anymore until we were parked in the visitors' lot on the Navy Yard.

I hesitated as GG quickly disembarked. Carrying the paper bag with his lunch he circled around to my side of the door swinging it open. "Let's not have a repeat of this morning" was all he said as I slid out of the vehicle and followed having slammed the truck door closed. How in the world did you know about the show down this morning? I hadn't told him… there was no way for Dad to have done so because I had been with GG the entire time and he'd been working in his basement. I shook my head as we passed through security. Normally an agent or some other employee would escort visitors through NCIS; however with GG's reputation and my relation to two high profile employees we were allowed unaccompanied access.

We quietly traversed the hallways navigating hello's and how are you doing's as we made our way to autopsy. I was happy that we didn't run into Tony, Ziva or either of my parents. My heart raced as we passed the squad room and then slowed as I saw it was empty. When we got to autopsy I faltered at the elevator door for the briefest of seconds. Before I had a chance to balk my elbow was taken in a firm grip and maneuvered in the direction of the large sliding doors. Palmer was at his desk at the computer filling out forms and paperwork for the most recent case. His assistant was wiping down the metal tables obviously having just put their newest 'guest' to 'bed'. The assistant took one look at me and high tailed it out of autopsy. Probably in search of missing pipettes.

Palmer's kind smile and twinkling blue eyes were always welcoming even at times like this. For a brief moment I even considered convincing Palmer I didn't need his attention. As a doctor he couldn't force medical care on me. I stood nervously beside the closest table while the other two men exchanged looks. GG then turned and exited standing with his back to the door as if he were on guard duty. My eyes seemed fixed on the lines and edges of the table and was startled when Palmer tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention.

"It's ok Luc" he said with such care and tenderness I felt guilty again that he was taking time out of his crazy day to look after me. Especially when I really didn't think I needed it. "Let's have a look shall we" his hands motioning me towards the table. I was sure that sitting on it was not going to be comfortable and the little heave I had to do with my arms to get me sitting on it was going to be none to pleasant either. My gaze went between the doctor and that table several times before he understood my quandary.

"Take you shirt off kiddo" he instructed realizing I might not be well enough to get up of my own accord. Bashfully I removed my carefully chosen top and set it on the table beside me having turned so that my injuries faced away from Palmer. I know I wasn't being particularly cooperative but I didn't want to be there and I didn't need to be there so that is my excuse for my behaviour.

"Com'on Lucas" he said a little more forcefully this time. His hands took a hold of my arm and turned me so that I now faced him. Being well trained he didn't let out the gasp I saw he wanted to. He looked over my shoulder and upper back and poked and prodded a little rougher than I thought necessary and I told him so. Instead of responding to my complaints he asked "How exactly did this happen?" with great emphasis on the exactly.

"Well… "I began hoping to simply brush over the details. But my hesitation gave me away and he took me by the chin and forced me to be directly face to face while he spoke "Exactly… don't leave anything out". As soon as he let go my gaze dropped to the floor.

"Well… all the guys were boasting about all of their physical accomplishments…and I told them about my junior black belt in karate… they were impressed and wanted me to teach them something…. so I started by teaching them how to do break falls so that they wouldn't get hurt if I showed them anything else".

"You got this demonstrating a break fall?" his voice extremely incredulous.

"Well… it was more where I started from; I think that was the problem…" I was really trying to give as little information as possible and Palmer was slowly getting frustrated.

"Where would that be?" he asked sarcastically, which was funny because I didn't think I had ever heard him be sarcastic before and wasn't he supposed be being all doctorly?

"The dining room table" I whispered into my opposite shoulder, but he heard me anyway. "The dining room table!" his exclamation shocking me to look into his wide eyed expression. "What did you land on?" he asked in a calm voice having gotten himself back in control.

"I landed on the hearth of the fire place" I answered as business like as I could. He walked across the room and pulled out a large machine I knew to be his portable x-ray. As he worked his way back across the room he asked about my chest.

"I was shoved against the table and a bottle broke in the process" I explained.

"You got in a fight?" his questions continued to be calm and much more professional.

"No… I had done a few demonstrations and the guys were amazed that I could fight them off…I'm a geek and they're all jocks… so …. Two of them came after me at the same time…. I didn't have all my faculties about me and was blindsided by the second guy and he drove me into the table" I wasn't having much luck at making this sound good. I had pictured at breakfast that I would be able to come up with really good explanations and make all of my actions sound so trivial but that wasn't happening at all.

Palmer's look of incredulity was probably nothing compared to what GG or my Dad would be looking like so I guess I should have been counting my lucky stars but in the moment I just felt awful.

"Let's get them x-rayed just to make sure you haven't actually broken anything." Palmer's instructions were short and to the point.

"Palmer… really I'm fine… if things were broken I wouldn't be able to move as well as I am … and I'm sure it would hurt more" I fumbled to say.

"Do I need to ask Gibbs to assist?" he asked without batting an eye.

I just shook my head no vehemently, probably resembling a 2 year old more than the 16 year old I was pretending to be.

"Then on the table now" his instructions seriously delivered. He had brought over a small step stool so that I could get on without having to haul myself up with my arms. I climbed up on the table and tried to sit on the edge as carefully as I could to avoid touching the back of my right leg. The tables had ledges and angles and such and it made it very difficult to maneuver around and I was incapable of hiding the grimace and short gasp that escaped. Having watched my movements, as well has having worked in investigations for a couple of decades Palmer quickly caught on that I had another injury.

Using his hand he motioned for me to get back down. I growled quietly more frustrated with my inability to suck it up so that I didn't have to show off my final and stupidest injury. His hand made contact with the back of my head in the blink of an eye and it shocked me into complete quiet. I had never seen him to that to anyone. He had been witness to it probably a million times and had no doubt been on the receiving end of a Gibbs' style head slap but I was not expecting that at all.

I was instantly standing in front of him, my face reflecting the amazement I was feeling at what had just occurred.

"Where is the injury?" he asked professional once again.

"On my lower right thigh" I answered without preamble.

"Lower your jeans" he instructed. I looked around the room hoping that I could calculate an exit. I didn't want to explain how the large rectangular bruise came to be on my thigh. My slowness prompted the repeat of the earlier threat "Do I need to ask Gibbs to assist?"

I didn't bother to answer I just ridiculously slowly undid my button and fly. And just as slowly I lowered my jeans feeling both mortified and vulnerable. Using his pointer finger he made a rotational motion. Shoulders slumped and head bowed I turned to face the table, taking a quick glance in GG's direction to see him still at his post just outside the large sliding doors. With my back to Palmer I couldn't see his reaction and he made no discernable noise. He gently poked around before inquiring "how did you come by this particular injury?" I could tell by the way he said it he already had a very good idea how it came to be there.

I didn't turn around before I pulled my jeans back into place and refastened the button and fly. Taking a moment to answer by carefully getting myself back up on the table I hoped I didn't have to clarify anything. I was already embarrassed by being examined, having to tell Palmer how I had been injured; I felt that I could be allowed this one indiscretion without having to verbally admit to it.

Palmer stood there arms folded across his chest waiting. I obviously wasn't going to be allowed that one little secret. "We got into paddle wars" I said hoping that would be enough to get him onto the next step of x-raying. Five minutes ago I didn't want the x-rays, now if they would get us talking about something else I would be more than happy to cooperate on that front.

"Paddle wars?" his question short but still understandable.

"Ya" I said holding out hope that I didn't have to follow through with more of the story.

His stance suggesting he wasn't going anywhere or doing anything different until he had the complete story.

"Everyone took turns trying to get a reaction out of each other. If the guy jumped, howled or groaned he was out. In the end it was just Landon and I. And well… I guess Landon really wanted to win and he swung really hard and really low" I finished.

"You purposefully let yourself be hit like that" his tone sounding accusatory even if it might not have been.

"Ya" I said more rudely than I had wanted to but couldn't help myself as I was feeling very defensive.

"Lucas, what were you thinking last night? What happened?" he asked his tone and body language softening.

"I wasn't thinking … and I won't do it again… I won't … trust me… I will never do something like this again…. It was stupid… I already feel like an idiot …. I don't need you to tell me that… I don't need you looking down your nose at me too… I'm fine I don't need any help… ok" I yelled. My emotions finally flying out at all angles without control or management. I was letting Palmer have it, yet it wasn't his fault at all. As I yelled I felt bad for doing so before I got control of my sharp tongue. Palmer put his hands on his hips in a non threatening manner and waited. He just let me yell. He didn't stop me or tell me to knock it off, even though he had every right to. I heard the doors swish open behind me but I didn't turn to see who was there as I already knew it had to be GG. But Palmer held up his hand to the intruder and motioned with his head for us to be left alone. I just kept yelling. I don't even remember what exactly I said but I just let it all out. When the words finally stopped running out of my mouth I was actually breathless.

When I'd been quiet for a bit and Palmer decided that I was finally finished he didn't say anything he just pointed to the table behind me. I meekly got up and carefully followed his instructions as he took several shots of my arm and chest. As he was looking at the results on his desk top computer his back to me I said "Sorry Palmer… I didn't mean anything by… by … what I said…I just.. it won't happen again". I didn't get to finish before he interrupted with "I know it won't… I understand. "

While he examined the x-rays I donned my shirt hoping that he wouldn't find anything and needing the little protection and privacy it provided.

He didn't say anything but walked to the door and as it opened of its own accord he quietly spoke to GG. I didn't bother listening as I was sure if he'd wanted me to hear it directly I would have.

Palmer turned and motioned for me to follow Gibbs as he headed to the elevator. Neither GG nor I spoke a single word the entire drive back to his place. Neither of us spoke as we took off our jackets and hung them up. Neither of us spoke as we both headed back down the stairs to resume this morning's posts.


	10. The Morning Gibbs' Point of View

**A/N- THANK YOU FOR ALL OF YOUR REVIEWS, QUESTIONS AND ALERTS. I have been more than just a little busy with RL and I have not been able to write. Finally life is cooperating and things are calmer. I hope that it is not as long before I can update again. I appreciate everyone's patience. Thanks again for your continued support! j.**

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><p>I had known that it would be a long day. Having seen Lucas when he got home with his father the night before had told me that. However I had hoped that things might go a little smoother. Instead of helping release the built up tension and fury, Lucas' explanation seemed to have him back swimming in a deep pool of guilt and self recrimination. Taking a 'medical' break was as good a reason as any to halt the proceedings.<p>

I had never known a situation where Lucas had deliberately made choices that were deceptive or so blatantly against the rules. Lucas' found trouble , that was a given, but generally it snuck up on him rather than him running full tilt into it.

I didn't need to prompt him much. He was eager to get it all off his chest. Confession is truly good for the soul. I spoke very few words all morning, a glance here or there enough to keep the story flowing. It was a turbulent journey but it still came out.

Seeing Lucas cry broke my heart. He was always the kid that could keep it all together, tough emotionally even though not physically. He seemed genuinely worried that he wasn't going to be forgiven, that he'd gone too far outside the accepted to be allowed back into the fold. I didn't understand that. Not at first. Not until I came to the conclusion that he too realized this was really the first time he'd gone looking for trouble. And as such he must have made the incorrect conclusion that forgiveness was only granted for "mistakes" not "deliberate" occurrences.

I didn't understand that at first. Hadn't Lucas witnessed his younger brother screw up a million and one times almost always of his own making and hadn't Sam always been forgiven. And then I thought back to my own teen years, feelings were always a mess and you barely understood them yourself let alone trying to tell anyone about them.

My original plan when I helped Luc up was to go and fetch a cup of tea or soda or something for the pair of us. But when I saw him wince when I barely moved him I was sure he'd been pretty badly hurt. Lucas wasn't one for complaining. As soon as I saw the nasty bruise across his chest I knew Palmer needed to have a look. I made a mental note to smack McGee a good one for not looking after this already.

We got to the truck and for the first time I notice what time it was. Food became something of the utmost priority as I figured a hungry kid would be a cranky kid and a cranky kid was much harder to deal with. Lucas had always tried to be different than his brother, distancing himself from him in many ways. One of them was his distaste for fast food. The more Sam raved about burgers and fries the more Luc tried to eat healthy. With pitas and juice being consumed I headed to headquarters.

Luc's hesitation to exit the vehicle was understandable but I had no interest in a show down. His jaw was set, his gaze straight ahead. But he his body held signs of trepidation. As I rounded the truck and pulled open the door I made mention of earlier in the day by saying "Let's not have a repeat of this morning". Although I was had not witnessed any altercation that morning I had surmised from Lucas' demeanor as I approached the door and his quick look side to side that he was trying to decide if he should make a stand or not. His indecision was easy to read and I made the leap that it was due to an unsuccessful attempt that morning. His look of surprise and immediate response of getting out of the truck told me I had been right.

Getting into headquarters was easy. Very few people were around on a Saturday morning so we met very few people on our way to autopsy. As the elevator doors opened Lucas ever so slightly leaned back about to retreat further into the car. Taking his elbow none too gently I escorted him through the large sliding doors. Palmer's assistant ran like a rabbit chased by a hawk. Lucas skulked by the edge of the closest table watching as I officially handed over care to the ME.

I stood, my back to the door, giving Luc and Palmer the privacy they needed but still providing cover should the younger of the two decide to make a run for it. I ate my lunch standing, not paying attention to what was going on inside. Palmer would assess the injuries do any care he was capable of and direct us elsewhere if anything different was needed. I had no question in his abilities. Instead I used the time to think through what Lucas had told me, his reactions, Tim's reactions and make a plan for the afternoon's conversations.

My thought process was interrupted by loud shouting and several nasty curse words. I left it a moment to see if Palmer would reign in our charge; however when the verbal onslaught continued I marched into autopsy ready to explain forcefully if necessary that this type of behavior was not going to be accepted. I was taken back when I noticed the calm countenance on Palmer's face as he stood listening to the tirade. And when he held up his hand for me to cease my obviously pending confrontation I smiled. Palmer was a father as well, he had achieved that title before anyone else on the team had, and he had the situation well in hand.

I returned to my post and waited. When the doors slide open I turned to listen to Palmer's assessment. Lucas' injuries were mainly superficial and although he was probably aching pretty severely it was nothing a couple of ibuprofen tablets and some rest couldn't cure. He quickly described how each of the injuries had occurred and then motioned for Luc to join us.

Saying the kid looked dejected wouldn't be accurate enough. He looked mortified as well. The trip back to my place was stone silent. We both entered the house and trekked to the basement resuming this morning's posts with not so much as a whisper.


	11. The Afternoon Luc's Point of View

**A/N - So sorry once again that it has taken ME SOOOO LONG to update... RL has been beyon crazy ... thanks for the continued support and reviews... I haven't answered most of you and I am very sorry... I think things are slowing down for real this time and I might be able to finish this story as well as write the 2 or 3 more that are racing through my head!**

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><p>My GG was different than most adults. He spent more time listening than he did talking. When you talked to him you felt like he understood what you were saying even if he didn't agree with you. He might have been analyzing everything you said but it didn't feel like it. Don't get me wrong … he could be scary as hell as well. As I sat on the landing my thoughts jumped from thinking of GG and how he was part of our family and the role he played to what happened the night before to what was going to happen when my dad finally came to pick me up.<p>

It was then in that moment when I played the likely events of the evening on fast forward in my head that I came to an enormous problem. As I threw my head back, hitting it none too gently on the concrete wall behind me, I blurted out "OH SHIT!"

GG stopped working on the wood in front of him and looked at me sternly over the top of his safety glasses. "Pardon me" he said his tone very authoritative.

"Sorry… I just… I… " I stopped trying to figure out if I wanted to actually finish the thought at all as there was no need to tell him about it right now. Unfortunately with only a few seconds to decide what was best I was unable to come up with any alternative to the problem.

"You?" he asked prompting me to finish before deciding if further reprimand was warranted for the inappropriate use of foul language.

"I need you to help me" I said deciding that asking for assistance was the best way to dissipate any retort that may burn my ears.

"With what?" he asked clearly unsure of my quick change in demeanor.

Embarrassment is one of the worst feelings I decided sitting there on that landing. Any other feeling you could talk, yell or cry through. But with embarrassment you felt hot, your throat closed and generally you were 'stuck' in a situation you couldn't change. How was I going to tell this man what I needed? The problem was I didn't want to have the need. I didn't want to have to solve this particular problem. Unfortunately I couldn't think of another way of solving it.

Leaning my forehead on my arms that were now wrapped around my legs, I would imagine I looked all of 4 sitting there but I didn't have to see the look on his face if I sat like that. Feeling as protected as I was going to I started slowly "I need you make something for me".

I peeked out over my arm to see that he had gone back to carving not even looking in my direction. I felt somewhat relieved and was able to continue. "You remember this morning how I told you that I took that paddle you made for dad to the party?" I then waited for the "Uh huh" I knew would come. When it did I haltingly continued "Well it kinda got burnt in the fire place with the coffee table".

I had quickly hidden my face again not wanting to see the look of incredulity I was sure was being shot in my direction. When I didn't get a response I looked up to find GG rummaging under the work bench pulling out different pieces of material. I watched guardedly as he examined each piece weighed it in his hand and then sorted into different piles. GG didn't say a word until he had set something on the table in the middle of the room and neatly piled the other discarded chunks back under the workbench. As he stood at the table with a square in one hand and a carpenter's pencil in the other I finally lifted my head off my arms. I watched as he wrote on the wood.

"How may I ask did it get burnt?" he asked quietly and without reproach.

Because his question actually sounded kind I wasn't at all reluctant to answer. "When Landon lost our little competition he got really mad and he threw it into the fireplace. It was already lit because when Riley broke the side table they started a fire to hide the 'evidence'. I wasn't exactly thinking clearly and I didn't even try to save it." My voice trailed off as I finished the sentence.

"Drinking in excess alters your ability to make good choices…doesn't it?" GG's statement stung but wasn't said with malice.

"Yeah" I agreed, my voice echoing the shame I was feeling.

"If you learn from this experience then it won't be a complete …" he stopped the sentence before he said anymore. I'm sure it was going to be a 'complete waste' or 'complete mess', whatever it was going to be it wasn't going to be something that was gentle or kind. So I was ok with him not finishing the sentence I had gotten the idea anyway.

"Ya" I said quietly more to myself than to GG. My tone was likely more sarcastic than I expected and he shot me a look that I interpreted as "Stop it right now". I may have been wrong but my immediate silence was met with another question. "What is your plan to smooth things over with McGee?"

With lightness I wasn't feeling and a humorous grin on my face I answered "Hide in your basement until I'm old enough to go to college". GG smiled one of his rare smiles and soft chuckle bubbled out of him. I had been watching him sideways as I spoke and turned to face him. "That's not going to work Luc" his tone still jovial.

"Really? You sure? I promise not to be any trouble" I tried. Hiding down here in the basement was actually looking pretty good. Having explained how everything went wrong yesterday, how I'd been injured and how I lost the paddle, I now felt relieved. As I talked the last remnants of heaviness lifted and I could breathe easier. I shuffled forward so that I was sitting on the step my elbows resting on my knees and my head in my hands. "I could help you with your projects, I promise to keep quiet" I knew I really couldn't stay but it was a way of keeping the conversation open and buoyant.

"Lucas you can't stay here. That wouldn't fix anything anyway." He said knowing full well I understood that without him having to explain it.

"I know… I know… I just… well... Dad's going to be …. Pissed off" I let slip before I caught myself. The glare I got warned me to watch my step as I was walking squarely back onto thin ice using that sort of language. "Sorry… ticked off" I corrected.

"And" he prompted.

"And I … I don't really want to deal with him… I feel guilty enough as it is… I know up here" I said pointing to my head "that he'll forgive me… but… I don't feel it here" I said holding my chest.

His understanding face looked at me for a long time before he quietly said "Life isn't easy, owning up to your mistakes isn't easy, but making a good effort is well worth it".

"Ya, I know" my answer lingering in the air much like the sawdust that he was now producing as he cut the wood now tightly held in a vice.

I stood and meandered over to the table GG was working at. I pulled the tall stool over so that I was positioned across from him and sat down. Leaning in on the table once again resting my head in my hands I finally figured out what he was making. My heart jumped into my throat and my stomach fell to my knees. I almost choked on the question but I had to ask it "Whatcha makin'?"

He didn't answer he just looked at me over the tops of his safety glasses and smirked. "That's what I thought" I responded dis-heartedly. "You don't really need to… do you?" I asked hoping to dissuade him. His look rather than his words said "What do you think?"

I sat watching him cut smaller pieces of wood away from the larger shape. I don't know why I spoke my thoughts out loud but I did. Maybe because I wanted someone to understand how I was feeling, confused, worried and maybe a tiny be scared.

"You know what?" I started knowing he wasn't going to verbally answer my leading question.

"Dad hasn't needed to use the paddle on me in almost 2 years… Not since Sean and I got caught cutting class when we first started high school…and you the funny thing is … I … I kind of figured I just got too old… you know… to get a lickin'…".

He smiled again. "Did you think that or hope that?" he asked me with a laugh in his tone and his hands working without pause.

"Luc..look at me" he said as I had dropped my gaze back down to the work surface. With relative ease I was able to maintain eye contact as he spoke. "You are feeling a lot better about the situation already having gotten everything off your chest this morning… imagine how much better it will be after you clear the air with him."

I know he is right…. he's always freaking right… but there are a few moments that I would rather just skip over to get to the 'everything's alright' stage.

"I know" I answer "it's just…." I don't finish my sentence. I don't need to. He understands without me tripping over the words.

We sit in comfortable silence. Or at least as comfortable as one can be sitting watching your grandfather construct a paddle that you know you yourself will have to hand over to an irate father later that evening.

As the afternoon progressed we began talking effortlessly about school, where I planned to attend college the following year and what I wanted to study. I babbled on, he listened. Every now and then he would ask a question to keep the conversation flowing but on the whole it was me that kept up the chatter.

It wasn't until GG turned to look at the door at the top of the stairs that I realized we were no longer alone. My heart jumped into my throat and my head started to spin when I heard the command "I'll meet you in the car".

GG rounded the table patted me lovingly on the back while with his other hand he placed this afternoon's wood working project in my hands.

As I trudged up the stairs and unloaded my hands into my back pack I heard from the basement "He already has forgiven you..."


	12. The Afternoon Gibbs' Point of View

I didn't envy either of them. Tim was probably swinging wildly from parental concern to being irate. And Luc was likely feeling a mix of shame and panic. Neither of them wanting to participate in any way in the next hour of their lives. Both would be happier skipping to the end where Luc could offer a heartfelt apology and Tim could accept it with a fatherly embrace.

I had done what I could; listening for the most part to Luc piece together the events of the previous evening. This little exercise played out so that he could more easily understand why he felt the way he did. But it was also to give him time to understand that although his father was angrier than a grizzly bear, and had every right to be, he still loved him and would openly forgive him.

As soon as the front door closed I emptied a small jar onto the work top and poured a generous helping of bourbon. I was thankful that my part to play was complete.


	13. The Whole Day Tim's Point of View

I dropped Sam off with Noah and drove without paying much attention to my surroundings until I reached the front gate at headquarters. Having to show my ID and answer the standard questions brought me out of my own thoughts and back to the real world.

I had a team to lead and a job to get done. My son was with a man a trusted above all others and I had a few hours of concentrated work to get through before I could wallow in the thoughts of both self recrimination for this morning's outburst and self pity that I was 'one of those fathers'.

Before heading to the bull pen I made a quick stop at Abby's lab. She would want an update on the boys in general and specifically how things stood with Luc. I found her fast asleep on the futon curled up under one of the desks. Leaning down I kissed her cheek softly to wake her. In true Abby fashion she jumped up spewing questions left, right and center. As I finished my report 'on the family' Abby grabbed the collar of my jacket and said while shaking me gently "When I get my hands on him, he's going to be one sorry little boy". I had to smile at her reaction as it had been how I had initially felt but was now seeing more to the whole story than simply the deceit and poor choices.

"Abs, it's OK…. I'm dealing with you… you concentrate on Major Mass Spec and I will deal with young Lucas!" Abby humph'd but turned to her machines and waved her hand as if to dismiss me. I kissed her cheek again before turning on my heel and heading out to find my crew.

Abby was an involved mother and it wasn't that I didn't want her to be part of the parenting on this particular occasion, it was more that I had started the ball rolling and wanted to finish it myself. With my minor tirade that morning I too had crossed a line I needed to explain to Luc.

Having to calm Abby down had actually made me feel better about the whole situation. By explaining to her how things were going to go I had a better idea of how to get through the afternoon and then the evening with my son.

The morning flew by with statements to take, reports to write, read and file and phone calls to make and receive. Abby appeared at my desk shortly after 1 pm and suggested we grab some lunch. It wasn't until we returned that Palmer came by to tell me he'd looked Luc over and that his injuries were nothing more than bruises and scrapes and that he would heal up on his own. I thanked Palmer and smiled inwardly that Gibbs had chosen to fight that fight and have Lucas examined.

Palmer was a friend but his role has ME and team doctor meant that he often had information that was of a personal or confidential nature. I stood watching him stand in front of my desk weighing who he was, friend or doctor. In the end friend won out and he described how Luc had come to get all the injuries in detail and how Lucas had reacted. In the end I guess he figured that I needed to know so that I would understand where Luc was coming from.

The afternoon unlike the morning dragged. I was stuck at my desk doing searches and responding to emails. It left me a lot of time to think about other things. What was I going to say? Where was I going to start with the conversation? What was necessary to say?

I compared and contrasted how I thought Gibbs and my own father would have reacted to the situation. My father would have started with an ear piercing lecture followed by an equally painful reprimand administered to an upturned posterior. And all that would have taken place last night hopefully in the confines of home but not necessarily.

Gibbs on the other hand would ask leading questions, do little of the talking and give as much time as possible for the culprit to come to terms with their wrong doing; then and only then would he voice his displeasure. Now here the two gentlemen's approaches merge. Gibbs would give a lecture followed by physical reinforcement of the lesson he just espoused.

My afternoon's work was slowed by my musing and thoughtful wonderings. But they were necessary and the case was not being hampered by my meandering. I few times I tried to play the conversation in my head, getting my wording 'just right', but nothing seemed to be right. Partly because I wasn't sure how Luc was going to react. This whole scenario was so outside his usual behavior and this morning's outburst so much more like Sam then Luc that I felt uneasy making choices without Luc with me.

When supper time was looming and I was supposed to be picking up Sam, I quickly made a call hoping that Noah's mother wouldn't mind an extra guest for the evening. I could pick Sam up in the morning; he would have fun at a friend's house for a sleep over, rather than be at home while Luc and I had our conversation.

Driving to Gibbs I was able to momentarily put myself in Luc's shoes. Thinking about how he must be feeling, what he must be thinking and how he must be dreading the moment I walk through the door.

Understanding him means I could enter the house in a soft and gentle manner. But Luc isn't expecting that. He is expecting a hardnosed investigator to come and get him, an irate father someone he has to show he is repentant to. Giving him what he expects will make it easier for him as he will feel more secure in his understanding of the world and his family. There will be time enough later for me to explain how much I understand.

I enter the house quietly, wanting to gain as much insight into my son's day as I can. I stand at the basement door watching as Gibbs cleans up the work space and Luc sits watching him. They are silent and if Palmer hadn't mentioned he'd seen them both today I might mistakenly assume that neither of them have left this room all day.

Gibbs' sixth sense kicks in and he looks in my direction. Luc studiously avoids gazing my way and instead looks to Gibbs for direction. Knowing that Gibbs is likely to have a word of wisdom to impart or a look to share I quickly give my order to be met in the car and head in that direction.


	14. The Conversation Luc's Point of View

The walk out to the car felt very long. It possibly was because I made it take as long as I could, packing my bag slowly, putting on my coat with the utmost care and precision. Carefully opening and then closing the door behind me so that it made as little noise as possible. Although I was sure GG heard every last movement and was quietly chastising me for stalling.

I could see my dad sitting in the car watching me from the corner of his eye just like I was watching him. It took several seconds to make my way to the passenger side and another few to decide what seat to sit in. For a split second I was feeling brave and chose the front seat. Once in and buckled my bravado had dissipated and I sat clutching my back pack as I stared out the wind shield.

He said nothing to me as he turned on the car, placed it in reverse and backed on to the street. As we drove home I realized Sam wasn't with us and Dad hadn't turned the right way to pick him up. Without thinking I asked "Aren't we getting Sam?"

"No" he said and then paused forcibly obviously trying to word his next sentence carefully. "I thought you and I would do a bit better with some privacy" he finished.

Instinctively I said "Oh" as my gut churned and my heart pounded even harder against my rib cage. I knew things were going to be bad but we had never needed the house to ourselves before.

I guess my face reflected the feelings of angst because he calmly answered without looking my way "I know how Sam can pester you at times like these and I thought you'd be happier with some time alone after we talk."

He sounded sincere and his tone suggested that he wasn't going to need an empty house to murder me and hide all evidence. That was promising, sort of.

Again all I could say was "oh" but my stomach lowered an inch or two and my heart rate decreased slightly. The rest of the drive was spent in silence; something that I had come to expect throughout the day.

We drove up to the house and Dad parked the car, turned it off and then turned to me instead of getting out. "Lucas" he started and I looked towards him but quickly dropped my eyes to the gear shifter. "Lucas we need to have a long talk about what happened last night and this morning. I want you to understand that I am ready to listen, but I expect the same from you." I nodded knowing he wanted a response before he got out of the car and headed into the house.

I followed him 2 steps behind all the way up the walk, through the front door and into the study he shared with mom. He took off his jacket and hung it on the coat stand in the corner. I took mine off and threw it over the arm of the sofa. In the few moments of these seemingly normal activities a million thoughts ran through my head. Where was mom? Had Dad told her about last night? Of course he had. When was she coming home? Oh my goodness I know I've screwed up because I haven't had to have a chat in the study in years… what should I say first? Should I say anything? Should I wait for him to ask a question? Should I just spill the beans and be done with it? When should I tell him about the wood working project in my bag? What is he thinking right now?

As the thoughts raced I dropped on the sofa with a sigh. I didn't realize until he stood leaning his hips against the desk instead of sitting on the coffee table to beside me on the couch just how big he seemed. Day to day now I wasn't much smaller than he was, but sitting on the lower furniture with him looming I recognized his size.

"Lucas… do you have any explanation for what happened last night?" he asked me, his tone even yet firm.

"I guess I do… I just… I just don't think it's a very good explanation" I offered my eyes staring at his shoes so I didn't see the suppressed smirk.

"Well how about we start with the explanation and then move onto why you don't think it's very good" he suggested.

I didn't know where to start. I really didn't. I took a few deep breaths, took a chance and looked at his face if only for a second to gauge his reaction. His expression was indiscernible. So I ended up looking at the pull tab on the zipper of by back pack. Taking the small piece of fabric in my hand I fidgeted with the zipper as I began. At first each word was painfully produced by my tongue and lips. But as the story progressed the ease with which my words fell out of my mouth grew. By the time I got to the part where he showed up at Landon's I was talking with such speed that I would have given my mother a run for her money.

My story at this point was primary recount of action to action. I didn't interject any feelings or thought but simply retold the evening's events as I remembered them and experienced them.

He stood there his arms loosely crossed over his chest listening. He didn't interrupt or ask for clarification on details I probably left out more out of rambling than trying to hide anything. When I finally slowed down and finished with "So that's when you arrived" he moved for the first time. Scrubbing his hand across his face he sighed. Returning to his orginial stance he watched me as I watched him through the tops of my eyes. My hands were still playing with the zipper as he began to speak.

I was expecting his voice to be raised in anger or dripping with hatred. I heard neither in his tone. Instead his voice was level. It was serious and I had no doubt that he meant what he said. He started by thanking me for being honest with him. Giving him the details of the evening even though they ultimately lengthened the list of transgressions for which I was responsible. I nodded acknowledgment. He then went into full lecture mode. I listened as I had promised in the car. Yet the words stung. I knew what I'd done was wrong, I knew I hadn't made good choices. I actually didn't need him to tell me that. Years later I will understand as I stand over my daughter and explain my thoughts and feelings about her disobedience that I will understand the need as a parent to voice those concerns, thoughts and advice even though the ears listening already know and have the information.

I nod where appropriate and even add the occasion "yes" when he pauses long enough that I feel a verbal answer is warranted. My thoughts wonder a few times during the long diatribe, what do you expect I'm 16 and listening to a ranting grown up?

I'm confused slightly by his lack of yelling. With his rage filled threat this morning I am stunned that he can now calming yet firmly elucidate his feelings. I had been expecting a screaming demon at this point. I was thankful that he wasn't but had no way of sharing that with him at the time.

I guess my wondering thoughts meant that I had missed an allotted response and my name was said in such a way as to quickly get my attention. "I'm sorry I was just thinking" I answered.

"About what?" my father asked trying to bite back the sarcasm.

"About what you were saying… and that I know I promised to listen… but I already know all that… I know what I did was wrong… I know I screwed up… I know I disappointed you and mom and GG and Palmer and probably everyone else in this family… I know it all…. I feel bad already… I'm not happy with myself… I'm not proud of what I did… I feel stupid and ashamed…. I don't need to tell me anymore how horrible I am.." It isn't until I'm finished my little rant that I realize I am shouting at him. To his credit he just stood there and took it… like Palmer had earlier in the day. Again I am thankful that he can hold it together when I apparently can't.

"Lucas… you haven't been listening … have you… I said exactly that… that I understand how you are feeling but that as your father I need to make sure you understand the far reaching consequences of your actions should you get into another situation like this… and I was also telling you how you might be able to get out of it earlier should you find yourself having made poor decisions." He paused and looked at me expectantly.

"oh" I said for what felt like the millionth time today.

"I want you to know that we love you no matter what… we might yell and scold… we might punish…. But it is all done because we love you and want you to learn right from wrong… we want you to walk away from the situation not feeling guilty anymore" He stopped again looking at me with eyes that suggested he needed an answer. I couldn't say anything because like I told GG earlier I knew all that intellectually but I still felt like crap.

"Do you understand?" he asked as I hadn't answered.

"I understand what you're saying I just don't feel it" I decided to explain as I had no other way of answering.

"Come 'ere" he said crooking his finger like GG does. I stood letting go of my bag for the first time since I left GG's house. He wrapped me in a hug that was completely unexpected. Not that my dad didn't hug me, because he did. But generally in such circumstances it was the last thing that happened before we went our separate ways. Me generally to my room to finish crying over the throbbing in my hind end and him to ruminate over whether or not he is too much like his own father. So I was confused as the loving embrace continued but didn't fight it. Being held tight to his chest made me feel grounded again; I was no longer floating in the space of uneasiness and unfamiliarity. I knew I had a place here no matter what. He kissed the top of my head and then held me out at arm's length his expression grim.

"We have a problem on our hands" he declared but before he could give voice to his concern I had figured out his dilemma. I held my hand up to stop him from speaking as I didn't think I could go through with this boldly if he said anything out loud.

I turned to my now discarded bag and opened the zipper fully. I pulled out GG's newest project and handed it to my father. He turned it over several times in his hands feeling its weight and smoothness. I watched him as he assessed it. "I had GG make a new one" I declared before he asked any questions.

We stood both staring at the implement in his hands, both not sure what to say next.


	15. The Conversation Tim's Point of View

I get into the car and wait. The wait is much longer than it needs to be but I understand that Luc feels no need to rush into this situation. I push down the frustration I start to feel as he is dawdling to defy me but to make it easier to accept what needs accepting.

I watch him covertly, knowing he too is doing the same. His walk and stance is that of someone who feels defeated. He has no fight in him anymore. I hope this is because he has come to the conclusion that the conversation we are about to have is inevitable and if he participates respectfully all will be well. I am not sure but hopeful none the less.

I start the car and pull into the street without even saying hello. I don't think social niceties are necessary under those circumstances and if he doesn't respond, as he may not, I again will feel frustrated.

We drive towards home keeping to ourselves until he finally asks "Aren't we getting Sam?"

"No" I answer. I pause before finishing the sentence. The reason I have asked Noah's family to keep Sam is because I think the discussion Luc and I are about to have is best done in private; especially the final few moments. And Sam has always been one to meddle where he doesn't belong. Sam's propensity for getting into trouble means that he reveals too much when he is finally not on the receiving end of some disciplinary action. So I answer carefully "I thought you and I would do a bit better with some privacy".

His "oh" followed by the utter look of panic suggests I have not worded that as carefully as I had hoped.

I try again to smooth things over as it is my intention to show him respect in this action and not elicit fear. "I know how Sam can pester you at times like these and I thought you'd be happier with some time alone after we talk."

He visibly relaxed but I understood his heightened stress level as who would be breathing easy knowing what was ahead.

When we arrived home I thought I would lay the ground rules for the next little while. All done in hopes of warding off any outburst or unnecessary unpleasantness. "Lucas we need to have a long talk about what happened last night and this morning. I want you to understand that I am ready to listen, but I expect the same from you." He nodded his understanding and so I left the vehicle and headed for the door.

I didn't look back. I was 100 percent certain he would be directly behind after this morning's little episode.

As I enter the front door I realize that in all my reflection on how this evening was going to go I hadn't decided where the conversation would take place. We didn't have a "special" spot for lack of a better word for these sorts of conversations. Each event was dealt with in its own way. Abby and I have spoken to the boys in their rooms, across the kitchen table, in the living room or in the study. Each location has a certain 'feel' to it and as I enter the house I decide the formality of the study is warranted and will portray the seriousness of the offenses more forcefully than will a raised voice.

I gather my thoughts as I remove my jacket and hang it up. Lucas seems to do the same. I can almost hear the gears in his head as he is thinking. He sits on the sofa, I lean against the desk. Again I am hoping the formality of the scene imbues the correct tone. "Lucas… do you have any explanation for what happened last night?" I inquire.

"I guess I do… I just… I just don't think it's a very good explanation" luckily he looks to the floor so that I can quickly suppress the grin that jumps to my lips. He has already worked through the events and understands how things went wrong. Gibbs was right again. By leaving him for the day he was able to think, talk and make decisions.

"Well how about we start with the explanation and then move onto why you don't think it's very good" I suggest. Knowing that just getting him to talk will be better than asking directed questions. He is enough like Abby that he just needs to get started and then it will all come out.

A leaned against the desk, my arms crossed over my chest my arms gripping the opposite arm. I watched him as he spoke although he concentrated very hard on the zipper of his bag. His story began slowly carefully weighing each word before he said it. But by the 4th of 5th sentence he was in full dumping mode. Just spewing information about the evening, reciting step by step what had happened. I let him go. Not asking for clarification as I didn't want to interrupt the flow. I had gained information from Palmer, the officers last night and there was enough information being given to get the main idea of all the issues.

Luc ended his discussion with "So that's when you arrived" the sentence said with such finality that I took it as my cue to begin.

I watched him as I began to explain how we needed to know where he was for his own safety. How lying only got you into more trouble. I explained how I interpreted his actions and how I understood that his decisions were being made on the spur of the moment and that thought wasn't really going into them. I explained that I understood full well the need to fit in and be part of something bigger but that compromising your morals and ethics was not the way to do it.

I continued on my parental spiel and Luc nodded or answered where appropriate. I finished by asking if he understood my point of view, how I saw things and if there was anything that I had misread or misunderstood that I wanted to reiterate for me.

I got no answer. I called his name twice before raising my voice and shouting "Lucas".

"I'm sorry I was just thinking" he answered. It took a few seconds for me to push the immediate response of "you weren't listening to me" and instead I asked "About what?" although I had to curb the tone in which it escaped.

I then listened again as he described how bad he felt. My frustration and anger evaporated. All I saw sitting there was my little boy. Who was overwhelmed by the feelings of guilt and shame. He really was harder on himself than any of us were, though he would never understand that.

I tried again to explain that I understood how he felt and that I too would feel the same way should I be in his shoes. That no matter what we all love him beyond his understanding. Screwing up doesn't mean you get kicked out of the fold. It just means you pay for your mistakes and hopefully you learn from them.

When I asked if he understood and he said "I understand what you're saying I just don't feel it". I decided to show him instead of tell him. "Come 'ere" I told him beckoning him with my finger as Gibbs has done with Tony and I a million times. He dropped his bad and uneasily approached me, I stood and wrapped him in a hug. One that I hoped would convey those feelings of love and security I wanted to impart. Those feelings my words were not conveying properly.

Lucas was at first tense. Unsure of the situation I am positive. I held him until I felt him relax, until I was certain he understood my words wholeheartedly. If he didn't understand than enforcing the consequences would not have the desired effect of allowing him to drop the guilt and move on.

I kissed the top of his head, as I had done a thousand times before, although with his height it was more difficult. But I wanted the sense of continuation, a token of love that he would understand no matter what was about to happen. I then pulled him away from me holding each of his arms in my hands.

"We have a problem on our hands" I said in a tone that was a mix of jovial and stern. He studied my face for a few seconds before he held up his hand like a police officer stopping traffic. I held my tongue as I was unsure of exactly what he was doing.

He turned to his now discarded bag and slowly undid the zipper he had been playing with earlier. He quickly pulled out something that took me a moment to recognize and handed it to me immediately as if holding it was burning his hands. "I had GG make a new one" he said his voice catching.

I turned the obviously new and unused paddle around in my hands. We both stood staring at it not sure what to say.

What I was thinking was this is very different from the one that had gotten burnt the night before. The paddle Gibbs had given me the night Lucas was born was very light, made of pine. It was only about as thick as a heavy ruler and only as wide as 2 or 3 school rulers put together. This one was much heavier, made of a hard wood. It was both thicker and wider. Inwardly I smirked. When I was first presented with the gift 16 years ago I questioned ever needing to use it. It seems almost laughable that I had thought that at any point. The initial gift had been given with a young child in mind. This paddle was definitely designed for use on a wayward teen.

I took the few minutes of silence to literally weigh the options. I had to be careful because I was used to the small light paddle that even if I swung very forcefully would do little damage to a denim clad backside of a 16 year old.

This one was a different story.


	16. The Punishment Luc's Point of View

**A/N - this chapter contains the detailed description of corporal punishment of a minor by a parent - don't like - don't read**

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><p>I stood there, just waiting. It was if the clock had stopped ticking, the earth stopped moving. I watched as Dad held the paddle by the handle in his left hand and gently tapped his right. His eye never leaving the motion of his hands I could see him calculating, like he did with a puzzle, a math problem or a case.<p>

I didn't understand. I wanted to. I didn't have it in me to ask. I waited for some sort of instruction verbal or otherwise. It didn't come immediately. Then instead of demand he asked me a question. "Palmer said that in your little competition last night Landon hit you hard enough to give you a serious bruise, is that true?"

I nodded. I didn't feel up to further explanation. Then came an instruction. It took me a moment to process it because it was one that I didn't want to comply with. He repeated it this time with more of an explanation.

"Lucas pull your jeans down. I need to see where Landon smacked you. I want to make sure I don't paddle you there with this" his words were accompanied by a wave of the new paddle. It was in the moment that something dawned on me. That paddle he was holding was way bigger. Huge in fact compared to the old one. Fear kicked in and I backed away. I wasn't afraid of my father. I was afraid of the sound spanking I was about to be on the receiving end of and wanted no part of it. That paddle was going to hurt a hell of a lot no matter what. And until that moment I also hadn't factored in the point that while totally inebriated last night I had received a serious licking. I had been uncomfortable sitting all day. What was it going to be like to have take another paddling? Nothing I wanted to actually experience that was for sure.

I backed up again and tripped over my own back pack landing squarely on my ass with the thud. Now I also felt like an idiot sitting sprawled on the floor.

He held his hand out for me to take and he helped me to stand. I started to back up again when he bellowed "Lucas come here" and pointed to the floor directly in front of his feet. I stood there not making a move forward and shook my head no. Don't ask me what I thought I was doing, because I have no idea. I had known since I saw the flashing police car lights last night that I would end up bent over some piece of furniture getting a well deserved thrashing. But I just couldn't move. My brain told my feet to take one step closer to show that I was obeying but nothing happened. My feet stayed firmly planted on the floor about 5 or 6 feet from my paddle wielding father who was looking more and more stern by the second.

In a forcibly hushed tone my dad said "Lucas James Garret McGee get over here now" he paused long enough for my feet to act of their own accord and transport me to his side. In the same tone he instructed "lower your jeans and bend over" pointing with the paddle to the larger ornate wooden desk he had been leaning against. My hands couldn't move fast enough and I fumbled with the button and fly on my pants. He stood impatiently waiting for me to comply but didn't say anything else.

I felt him move rather than saw him as I had my eyes screwed shut in anticipation of the first swat. I felt him tap my bottom gently with the lethal weapon twice before I heard the swoosh of it being drawn back and then hurled forward landing with a resounding crash against my already sore ass. Oh My God it hurt like crazy. There was no possibility of the stoicism I had won the competition with the night before. "O w ow ow ow ow" I spit out through clench teeth. I had been thinking a thousand thoughts as I had bent over, like how much was this going to hurt? How many swats was he going to deliver? Had GG ever been paddled and if so why in the world would he make one of these things? Had Dad ever been on the receiving end so that he actually knew how it felt? That Sam was going to be so pissed at me when he found out I had gotten rid of the old one just to have it replaced by its mammoth of a cousin. Once the first swat landed I had no thought but, please let this be over soon.

He waited until I had stopped whining before landing another solid smack. Geez. We were only at the count of two and I was whimpering with hot tears spilling out of my tightly closed eyes. I didn't count out the rest of the swats. My senses were drowning in the fiery sting that was quickly replaced by a deep throbbing until the next one landed. I just cried. I believe I even tried to tell my father "that's enough" after the fourth smack but he continued. I felt the paddle drop onto the desk with a thump a short time later.

Then he tapped my shoulder gently. "Com 'on son stand up… Com ' on… " he said again as he gently tugged me into a standing position in front of him. I bent over and righted my clothing before I let me hold me against his chest once again. This time I cried into his shoulder big heaving sobs. He didn't say anything he just patted my back gently while the other hand cradled the back of my neck my head buried under his chin. I don't know how long we stood there but I do know it took me a long time to get control of myself again.

"Lucas I love you. I will always love you. But if I EVER have to retrieve you from an officer again I swear I will not be as patient, as understanding or as merciful. Do you get my drift?"

I know he was being serious, I know he was trying to make a point. I think it was the tension of the moment but I laughed when I answered. "I got it Dad… I got it."

I shuffled my way up to my room. I didn't bother showering I just threw myself on my bed face first. I was only awake long enough to make the assumption that this spanking was so intensely painful for several reasons. First of all I had been quite severely paddled by Landon the night before so my derrière was already feeling tender. Secondly the paddle was monstrous. And thirdly I had been anticipating this licking since last night and my senses were all out of sorts. With my ego assuaged due to my clever reasoning I was asleep in minutes.


	17. The Punishment Tim's Point of View

**A/N - this chapter contains the detailed description of corporal punishment of a minor by a parent - don't like - don't read**

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><p>Lucas stood staring at me assessing my thoughts. I could tell he had questions but wasn't willing to ask them. I decided that they could be answered later if necessary but that now was the time to get this whole mess over with and behind us. I tapped the paddle gently in my right hand feeling its weightiness.<p>

As I was about to give the proverbial command to 'bend over' I remembered Palmer describing one of Luc's injuries and how he got it. The ridiculous kid got into some sort of test of macho'ism with the team captain and the two of them had it out. Problem was Luc was already severely bruised and I didn't want to aggravate that injury. So instead I asked a question "Palmer said that in your little competition last night Landon hit you hard enough to give you a serious bruise is that true?"

It was my hope he gave details of the impromptu licking he'd received the night before or at least details of where the bruise was. Instead he just nodded. So I was forced to ask him to remove his jeans so that I could make sure I didn't smack him again on his injury. I was about to deliver what anyone would call a sound thrashing and I did want him to remember it as one of the worst spankings of his life; however I didn't want to injure him as Landon had carelessly done.

He didn't comply immediately to my demand and so I said again "Lucas pull your jeans down" but this time I added the explanation "I need to see where Landon smacked you. I want to make sure I don't paddle you there with this". This time I waved the paddle in his direction so that he would get the point. Instead of obeying my request he slowly started to retreat towards the door. That was until he tripped on his own back pack.

I understood his reluctance. Who wouldn't? I went over and held my hand out to help him to his feet. He was weary of me but allowed me to assist. Once standing I returned to my post beside the desk but instead of coming closer he again reversed. In the most commanding of tones I ordered "Lucas come here" and pointed to the floor in front of me.

It was my hope that the sharp words would snap him out of his panic. Instead he shook his head no. I had to breath slowly and count backwards from 20 in hopes of staying calm enough. I had been reasonable, loving and patient. I was not however going to continue with my understanding if he wasn't going to comply. He was going to get a thrashing no matter what even if I had to drag him over and hold him in place.

I controlled my voice to the best of my ability but it meant that it came out barely audible. "Lucas James Garret McGee get over here now" had him ever so slowly making his way to my side when he arrived I finished giving my instructions "lower your jeans and bend over" pointing to the desk in which he was to hold onto when in position.

He couldn't get his button undone and I stayed silent while he got ready. I patted his backside a couple of times again feeling the weight of this much heavier implement.

The moment the paddle made contact with is butt he hissed out a repeated "ow ow ow". Since Lucas was in upper elementary he had always tried his hardest not to show any outward signs that the punishment he was enduring hurt. He was never fully successful, the exception being the night before when he was drunk and it was a game. Tonight however he was unable to make it through a single swat without a reaction. I waited until he was quiet again before bringing the paddle down a second time. I could hear Luc's complaints under his breath.

I hated this part of the "father" job. I really would like to never have to be in this position ever again. I'm sure the same thought is running through Luc's head at this point as well. But I needed Luc to know that punishment follows misdeeds and that with punishment comes absolution. As I brought the paddle down for the third time I hoped he would bounce back from this whole experience quickly, having learnt a lesson or two along the way.

Luc says through tears and gritted teeth 'that's enough', but I continue. I had planned on landing a solid 10 swats but after 8 decided that he would remember this for the rest of his natural born life and that there was no need to continue.

I toss the paddle onto the desk so that he can hear that it is over, he can get up, but he doesn't move. I tap his uninjured shoulder and say "Com 'on son stand up… com' on" while I pulled him up to standing. Before I could take him again into an embrace he bent down and pulled up his jeans. He cried harder than I remember him ever crying in the past. I assumed he was crying to let out all the emotions that had been haunting over the past week or so. This had been a long time coming and now it was over. Luc finally got control and there was only the occasion hitched sob. At that point I knew he could listen, take in what I was saying and remember so I said "Lucas I love you. I will always love you. But if I EVER have to retrieve you from an officer again I swear I will not be as patient, as understanding or as merciful. Do you get my drift?"

He chuckled, I knew it was out of a release of tension and not disrespect. But answered "I got it Dad .. I got it".

I watched as he gingerly made his way out of the room and I listened for him to climb each stair. His door opened and closed. I heard nothing after that. I sat in my large leather chair behind the desk and breathed a sigh of relief. That ordeal was over. We weren't ever going to have to repeat that again…. At least not with Luc!

I pulled out my laptop and started to work. It wasn't until quite late that I realized we hadn't eaten anything for supper. I stopped in at Luc's room on my way to put the new paddle away where the old one used to sit on my closet shelf. I expected to see him reading or listening to his ipod. Instead I found him sound asleep on top of the covers. I pulled an extra blanket out of his drawer and tucked it around my sleeping child.

I kissed his cheek told him I loved him and left the room to find something to snack on before going to bed myself.


	18. The Morning After Luc's Point of View

I awoke as the sun peeked through the cracks in the shutters. I didn't move as my body was aching all over. But as I lay still I realized that for the first time in days I felt rested. I'd had the first deep sleep in days. Guilt really does do a lot of damage, playing on your mind so that even something as mundane as sleep doesn't happen. I groaned as I rolled out of bed and into somewhat of a standing position. I collected my clothes and shuffled to the bathroom to shower. It was my hope that the hot water would loosen the tense muscles and relieve some of the aches and pains.

I stood there letting the water pour over me long after I had washed. A rap at the door had me startle out of my reverie. Who was it? I thought. My parents had their own bathroom and Sam was a friend's house wasn't he? I turned the water off and asked "Who's there?"

"It's me" came my father's reply. "Just thought I'd let you know breakfast is ready" he explained.

Breakfast! The second my stomach heard those words it growled with vigor. I was starving. It wasn't until I was getting dressed that I understood why I was so hungry. I hadn't eaten supper. I rushed down stairs and stormed the kitchen. I grabbed a plate from the cupboard and served myself a heaping portion from the stove. Eggs, bacon and toast all piled high. I stood in the middle of the room and began to eat. I paused for a moment when I realized the bread wasn't buttered but I couldn't hold my plate and solve that problem so had come to the conclusion that butter was not a necessity and continued to shovel it into my mouth.

It was then that I heard the throat clearing sound again. The first time I heard it I ignored it thinking it simply a noise, the second time was when it was evident that I was to be paying attention. My father sat at his spot at the table pointing to my spot. "We sit to eat. This isn't one of Uncle Tony's fraternity houses."

"Really" I said sarcastically "I could have sworn a saw a large wooden paddle floating around here somewhere". I smiled as I traversed the kitchen and placed myself carefully in my chair. My comment actually elicited a chuckle from my father.

We were just cleaning up when the front door burst open and Sam flew in trailed only seconds later by our mother. Her hair was slightly askew and her clothes were wrinkled. She had once again slept in the lab. Sam's mouth opened about to say something when my mother's voice rang out clearly from the front hall way "Samuel Thomas what did I tell you in the about leaving your brother alone?" Sam's mouth closed and he turned speedily and raced up to his room. I guess he didn't trust himself not to say anything if he stuck around.

When my mother rounded the corner I wasn't sure what to expect. In the past if she was not the one dealing with one of my screw ups she had different reactions. She could go anywhere from holding me close and telling me how much she loved and cared for me all the way to screeching banshee. I stood facing her waiting.

As she approached she exchanged glances with my father. I was not yet fluent in their non verbal dialogue so was unsure of what transpired.

I stood my thumbs in my pockets holding my arms at my sides. Looking right at her I was hoping that the look of contrition would satisfy her that all was well and resolved. Then the rant began. "Lucas James Garret what were you thinking, sneaking out like that, going to a party with drugs and alcohol" she then continued. I didn't really listen from that point on. Mom could get worked up and often got talking so fast that you couldn't discern individual words or she just stopped making sense. Because I had put this all behind me already I was easily able to participate in her need to let out her worries and concerns. A few times she hesitated. I threw in a "Yes ma'am" here and there to appease her. I had learned years ago that my mother was raised in a household of "yes ma'am" and "No sir" and that even though she didn't expect that sort of response from either of us boys it always helped to throw the phrases around in times of trouble.

I could tell she was wrapping up as her words slowed and her voice get even. "And Lucas if you ever pull a stunt like that again I will tan your hide something fierce even if your father has already dealt with it… do you understand me young man?"

"Yes Ma'am" was the only correct response and I gave it with as much conviction as I could.

"Good!" she said as she came in for a hug and squished me so hard I could barely breathe. When she finally let go she kissed me on the forehead. Her next move was rather unexpected as she took my arm and turned me sideways. Before I could protest she landed two extremely hard swats to my very sore ass. "Don't do it again" she called over her shoulder before I could complain.

I gave my father a pout in hopes that he would commiserate with me. Instead he just shrugged his shoulders. Thanks dad…Thanks a lot.


	19. The Morning After Tim's Point of View

As I heard my wife and youngest child enter I cleared my plate and went to rinse it in the sink. The vantage point gave me a good overall view of the scene. Sam came running in excited wanting information and confirmation from his brother. He had only opened his mouth when Abby reminded him of her warning in the car to leave his brother alone. Sam closed his mouth and hesitated only slightly before turning and running to his room, his door crashing closed.

Abby stepped up to Luc as he stood to greet her. He is a good kid. I wouldn't have had it in me to advance on an angry parent. But Luc has a confidence about him I just don't understand but am very proud of. Immediately Abby lets go. She rambles on. Luc stands and listens. The little turkey even adds his "ma'am" to his response something I've watched him do with his mother to appease her. I'm not sure she has caught on to the fact he uses it, but I'm not going to be the one to point it out. I would probably just get an ear full or a swift punch in the arm for keeping it from her for so long.

I can tell she is coming to a close as she slows her words and annunciates more clearly. Her threat to Luc spelled out clearly with a demonstration of what she means.

Rubbing his sore behind, he pouts in my direction hoping to get sympathy. I'm not silly enough to be pulled into such an escapade. Without the support he was looking for he takes off.

"You ok now?" I ask Abby who is cuddled into me. I hold her tight and we stand quietly for some time.

"Ya, I'm ok now" she answers without moving. "I'm starving though I think I will have some of these here eggs" she said pointing to the frying pan on the stove top.

"While you eat I need to go have a conversation with our son" I explain pulling her away from me.

She looks at me confused but I answer before she is able to ask any questions. "I need to talk to Sam. He seemed to be having difficulty with the situation yesterday morning and I haven't had a chance to talk to him about it." Abby was still unsure of exactly what I meant but waved me off as she got herself some breakfast.

I walked up the stairs and stopped at Luc's room on the way. His door was slightly ajar and so I could see him spread out on his bed doing homework with his earphones in. Good kid.

I gently knocked on Sam's door and was greeted with "Who's at my door?" in a gruff voice. "The big bad wolf" I answered. "Ha ha Dad you think you're so funny" I heard him through the still closed door. As I wasn't going to be invited in I entered and closed the door so we could have some alone time.

"Hey Sam I thought we could have a chat" I said sitting in the big rocking chair that still sat in the corner of his room.

He eyed me wearily and then sat. "I don't think we need to chat I haven't done anything wrong. You're supposed to be chatting with Luc." He informed me as though I didn't understand my own responsibility. "I already had a chat with Luc. I wanted to talk to you not because you did anything wrong but because I thought you might have questions about what happened."

He continued to play sort through his cards reading each with more intensity than was warranted. "Sam" I tried to get his attention. "Uh uh" he said not looking up. "Do you have any questions?" I asked hoping my openness would make him feel comfortable enough to discuss something he may be thinking about.

"Nope" he said flipping through the deck again.

"You sure? Because yesterday morning in the car you seemed like you wanted to say something and then never did. I was thinking you might be worried about something."

"Nope. I'm not worried. Luc was the one in trouble. Nothing for me to worry about" his tone nonchalant.

"You know that when you're in trouble Luc worries about you" I like to take these little opportunities to help build brotherly bonds. So that Sam understands that even though his brother is 6 years his senior they are still brothers.

But Sam looks at me like I have 2 heads "I don't think you got that right. If he was worried about me getting into trouble he would have agreed to lose that damned paddle when he had the chance" Sam spat out.

I had to suppress the laugh that threatened to distract from the seriousness of the conversation and so I was unable to even correct Sam on his use of poor language.

I stood, ruffled his hair and left him to his games.

Returning to the study so that I could get some work done, hopefully meaning I didn't have to leave the house today I spent several minutes thinking about the boys. How different they were from each other. How different they were from Abby and myself. Yet they both possessed similarities and qualities of the other and us.

As I opened my laptop I smiled. Sam was going to be so pissed when he found out that Luc asked GG to make a new one. I then hoped that Abby was the one around to deal with the revelation!


End file.
